


Cellophane

by golfdadscoups



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Drug Use, Extremely Dubious Consent, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-16 01:21:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29692863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/golfdadscoups/pseuds/golfdadscoups
Summary: Sometimes Jeonghan wonders if he has a soul or if he's just a clump of cotton encased in plastic.
Relationships: Choi Seungcheol | S.Coups/Yoon Jeonghan
Comments: 6
Kudos: 33





	Cellophane

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Pendulum](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17449295) by [golfdadscoups](https://archiveofourown.org/users/golfdadscoups/pseuds/golfdadscoups). 



> the following work of fiction depicts a toxic and unhealthy relationship.  
> i dont even know how to explain this one. a prequel/sequel of sorts to pendulum but it doesn't really matter what order u read them in or whether u even read both. goes back and forth between flashbacks. sorry in advance. jeonghans and scoups parents are both wonderful people im sure.

**C E L L O P H A N E**

~~~

Seungcheol opens the door, and in stumbles Jeonghan. 

  
  


Seungcheol opens the door, and in stumbles Jeonghan. 

  
  


Sengcheol opens the door, and in stumbles Jeonghan. Seungcheol opens the door, and in stumbles Jeonghan. 

“Darling, you’re here.” He slurs, openly collapsing into Seungcheols arms and looking up at him with those pretty _pretty_ eyes. 

“I’m here.” Seungcheol replies, pushing Jeonghans hair out of his face. 

His own voice shocks him. The simple phrase _I’m here_. Is he really? 

Jeonghan has cut his hair even shorter. It falls in waves on his forehead. He shakes his head, eyes brimming with glittering tears, gentle hands coming up to cup Seungcheols cheeks. 

“You’re here.”

“I’m here.” 

Some days he feels like he could blow away in the wind. Like dust. 

Seungcheol holds his breath, stares and stares into wild fluorescent eyes. They ignite some old spark in him. But they also make him so angry, he could slit this mans throat right here. 

Jeonghan nods, lips pressed into a line. 

“You’re drunk, love.” 

Jeonghan nods again before fully collapsing, knees seem to give way like life was just taken out of him. He kneels down, a hand still fisted into Seungcheols pants. It's a nice suit, from the Gucci fall line up. Sent as a gift from Alessandro Michele himself. 

A phone starts ringing. 

Jeonghan heaves, head bent down, resting against Seungcheols leg. 

“Hello?” Seungcheol answers. 

_“The benefit has started and the guest of honor hasn’t left his house.”_

“I’m in the car-”

_“No you’re not. Chauffeur called to let me know you’re 20 minutes behind schedule.”_

“Listen, Jisoo, I appreciate it.” Seungcheol sighs, fingertips coming to rest on top of Jeonghans head. “But don’t call me again for the rest of the night.” 

“ _But-_ ”

Seungcheol sighs, blood in his veins feels viscous, any attempts at movement seem to go so slow, like time is running and running. Time is moving fast and he isn’t. 

This past year, time was moving so fast, and he wasn’t. There was so much he wanted to do, to say, but couldn’t. 

He kneels in front of Jeonghan, lifts his pretty face up to see those sad eyes of his leaking liquid gold, mouth pulled down in a crude pout. Something about that expression makes his dick hard.

“Why did you come all the way here, Jeonghan?”

“I miss you.” He chokes out. 

A gong hits and sounds off.

Seungcheol sighs.

“I miss you too. More than anything.”

Everyday for the past year, time was moving so fast but Seungcheol wasn’t, remaining frozen because of this deep throbbing inside his chest, and everywhere he turned his head, he would see beautiful eyes leaking liquid gold. 

Everyday for the past year, Seungcheol has been so fucking sad. 

“I-I miss you so much I start to ache inside.” Jeonghans eyes are so big and full of sorrow. “I think I miss you more than I loved you.”

In his head, Seungcheol pretends that he’s done it all right the first time. Somehow the lesson never sticks. It’s terribly hard to put into practice what we think. There is always that lonely distance between what we think and what we do.

“Oh, Jeonghan…” He mumbles, studying his face. 

Sorrowful, sorrowful eyes, as they always have been, because of Seungcheol. But they are longing. He runs a thumb on Jeonghans skin, over his wobbly lips, and slips a finger inside his mouth. 

Jeonghan parts his lips, all sex, all apeal. A small wicked grin makes its way onto Seungcheols mouth. 

“Why did you leave me, Seungcheol?” He asks as Seungcheol removes his hands from his face.

“Jeonghan, not now-”

“ _Please_. Tell me.” 

Seungcheol sighs. 

“You’re the one who divorced me.” He says simply. “You left me for dead.” 

Jeonghan looks shocked. As if he can’t believe he would ever do such a thing. 

“I-....” Jeonghan blinks. “I felt like being with me made you unhappy.”

“It did. But you left me for dead.”

Recognition flits in Jeonghans face. A spark of that old anger. 

“And every day that I had to see your insufferable face drove me insane.” There is that familiar edge. “I wish you would die.”

Seungcheol is so sure he’s going to die soon. He has the face of someone who’s going to die young, Dooyoon used to tell him. 

Maybe it was something that was meant to happen. Being with Jeonghan delayed it but also made him hyper-aware of it. The way he was slowly dying.The daily cigars are an effort to speed up the process. 

A sob breaks over Jeonghan, anger melts away and that small cruel sadness is under the surface. 

Everyday for the past year, Jeonghan has been so fucking sad. 

“Didn’t I do it for you?” He asks. 

Seungcheol doesn’t know what to say. Doesn’t know how to say Jeonghan did it all for him. That he’s rueful he couldn't do anything in return. 

“W-what did I do wrong?” Jeonghan pleads softly before taking a painful inhale, forcing breaths in and out. “What did I do wrong?”

“You left me for dead.” 

It’s the truth. 

Jeonghan makes a small sound in his throat.

“Then why are we here? H-how did we get here?”

A painful inhale and then a wail. Jeonghan hits the floor, it turns his palm red, the sound echoes around them. He continues to roar, hand becoming numb. It goes on until Seungcheol cannot bear it.

He grits his teeth and yanks Jeonghans wrist in some attempt to calm him, holds both his hands close, looks into those deranged eyes to find something, only sees his own derangement looking back. 

“Jeonghan. My darling.” 

“N-no-”

But Seungcheol insists, resting their foreheads together. 

“My Jeonghan.” 

A sob breaks over him. 

“My love…my baby, my baby, my baby. My Jeonghan. All mine. Only mine.” 

Jeonghan shakes his head slightly, lips wobbling. 

“Say it to me.” Seungcheol orders, grip tightening. “Only mine.” 

Eyes flutter closed, those pretty tears running down his face. 

“O-only yours.” He chokes out, nodding weakly. “Only yours.”

Minutes pass or maybe no time at all. 

“Let’s go to bed.” Seungcheol then hoists him onto his side, making his way past empty walls. 

There used to be big portraits of them up there, you know? Symbols of enduring devotion, eternally etched into the house. This house used to be a symbol of devotion, something that stood proud against the shackles and whips of the world. The world outside that wanted Jeonghan and Seungcheol, but not together. 

~~~

**Are you still there? I can feel your hatred.**

There are no orchids blooming in Jeonghans garden. He’s realizing this too late. A year has passed, his annuals will be out of bloom soon. Oh, what will he do? 

No orchids have bloomed for him this year. He had always thought if he planted seeds, said the right words over them like a prayer, they would bloom for him. Did any of the seeds he planted grow at all or are the dark orbs that float in his vision real? 

He rocks back and forth, back and forth, bent over his legs, folded in half where he sits in the hollow night air, he sees drops of dried blood on the wood between his feet. His hair is freshly cut, jagged ends, clumps of it pinch at his hands, it's uneven, long in some places, like someone hacked a knife through it. How did it come to this? He waits and waits for that voice to call him, bring him inside the house and hold him. 

His orchids have not bloomed and he doesn’t know why.

H̷̪̏̿e̴̺͖ ̵̦͆m̵̨̝̕u̸͎̐͊ș̷̈́̉t̵̛̲ ̶̝̋ḥ̴̢̿a̷͚͂̒v̶̧̼̆̀ẹ̴̎̊ ̶̭̰̈͑p̴̗̓͜l̴͚͆ä̵̳̩́n̸͈̭̑t̶̗͌e̶͐̏ͅḑ̶̫̕͝ ̶̧͍͌̈́ť̵̹̘̽h̵͖̕͜ē̸͇m̴̡̘̚ ̵̦̊t̶̫̾o̸͖̜̅o̴͙͑ ̴͔̏͝f̵̧̆a̷͔̓̃r̶̨͇͠ ̸̢͎̑d̵̠̍̏ŏ̸̞́w̷͈̱͌ņ̷͙̏̀.̶͖̑ ̵̝̇̏Ṁ̴͕̳̒a̶̢͓̒̈y̶̤̐͜ḅ̷͐͘e̴̛̜̤̔ ̸͚̩͐t̸̤́h̸̯̄͘e̸̤̟̒ ̵̱͊͠s̴̜̻̕ǫ̷̗́̿u̷̮̫͆̀l̵͉̩̕ ̷̬̭̈́̌ǐ̶͇̓͜t̵̮̽͆s̷̡̈́ę̸̜̃͊l̴̞͉̾f̴̃́ͅ ̸̣͇̓i̷̡͔͝s̸̗̕ ̸̧̼̒ű̶̙ṋ̵͜͝y̶̨i̷̛͙ḙ̵̋͜͝l̶̗̑d̴̹̈̽i̸̛̬͓͆n̸̗̲̄g̸̹̗̊.̴̜̎

Seungcheol, I think I’m dying.

You must be.

I’m dying. Seungcheol, I’m dying. 

Seungcheol?

Seungcheol? Seungcheol? Seungcheol? Hello? Can you hear me? Are you still there? I can feel your hatred. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_Hello? Can you hear me?_

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


“Are you coming in, love?” Seungcheol calls his husband.

Jeonghan looks up when Seungcheol calls him. He is there, in that big garden, which was half the reason they closed on the estate even though it didn’t have the office on the second floor like Seungcheol wanted. 

His hair is short and blond, set in waves, he is much younger. He grins prettily and gets up from where he's kneeling, surrounded by bushels of flowers, hydrangeas, lilies, azaleas, carnations, forget-me-nots, and of course orchids, half planted half not. They just finished moving in a few days ago, the garden is a work in progress right now. 

Jeonghan takes off his work gloves, making his way over to Seungcheol, plucking a stem of forget-me-nots out of the ground. He pulls one flower out and sticks it in Seungcheols hair. 

“Are we going out for dinner?” Jeonghan asks.

“It might be better to stay in for a while.” Seungcheol leans forward and kisses him, one hand coming round the small of Jeonghans back to pull him close. “Avoid press attention.”

Jeonghan leans into him, humming into the kiss, wrapping his arms around Seungcheols shoulders. He doesn’t really care as long as he gets to stay with him. 

The leaves of the flowers he picked tickle the nape of Seungcheols neck. He wiggles back. Jeonghan looks at him with lovely eyes, eyes that somehow look golden in the rays of the setting sun. Seungcheol brushes his thumb against Jeonghans cheek, and then runs his fingers through his hair, pushing it back out of his face. Jeonghan smiles up at him in a way he hasn’t before.

It’s their one year anniversary. 

_If I go all the way back to the beginning, what will I find you doing?_

  
  
  


W̴̧̡̛̟̜͉͍̣̮̱̳̯͓̣̮̙̆̽̿́̐̽͗̏̿̔̋̉͌͆̈́̇̿̆̊̇̂̄̐̎̉̐̉̈́́̄̓͒̋͘̚̚͜͝ḯ̵̟̱̠͉͊̎̈́͆͗̓͊͂̇̾̽̅̄͛͌̓͛͒͒͌̒͌͗͌̇͛̃̇̓̒̌̕̕͝͝͝ļ̵̡̡̛̣̻̠̘̟͇͕͎̪̗̭̻͔͚̘̤̤̹̺͖̱͈̀̊͌̎̃̒̍͆̈̋̂̈́́͗̋̿̓̽̈́͑͑͑͌̓̔̌̓̈̕͘͘͘̕͜͠l̶̡̹̺̬̪͇̝̥̻̹̩̲̬̲̾̾͆̔̌̿͌̾͊̈́̓͌̏̓͋̅͛̾̍̾͋̀͐͋̄͊̎͝͝ ̴̢̗̙̩̼̖̜̝̠̭̫̟̭̟̦͔̪̣̥̼̹̟͖͕̙̪̝̥͚̝̙͇͈͈͎̠̳̟̣̂̌͆̆̀̈̑͌̿͒̄͐̈́̐̌̀̕͜͜͝ͅy̷̨̢̢̢̢̻̤̜̤̰̳̗̗̦̼̭̪̖̰̟̗̲̬͓̰̫̱̝̦͖̪̼͓͓̱̖̼͙͙͖͓̟͈̱͓̞̍͊́͒̓͐̀̀̋̂̃̀͛̀̍͂̐̚͜͝͝ͅở̸̢̩̠̰̝̠̲̗̜̳̥̗͓̲̰̫̗̬̪̙̘̍͂̈́̍̒̇̈̔͐̓̔̄̂̂͐̕̚u̸̢̮̩͔̞̗̝͍͓̯͖͎̺͌̑͋̐̈́̈̽͂̊̈̓̆͐̉͒̽̑̈́̐̃̋̉̏̉̂̇͊̒̿͋̔̎̕̚̚̕͜͝ ̶̧̱̬̟̙̠̮̺̹̼̠͎̼̙̰̜̟͎̦͖̦͎̲̭͖̙̞̝̥̲̰̗̣̇̈̓̈ͅb̷̧̛̯͔̹̜̥̭̯̤̜͇̝̻͉͇͕̟͎̮̹̭̜̥̙̘̠̘̱̞̯̣̞̣̲̝̔̆̔̓̈́̀̍̂̃̽͗̊̊̊͋̽̓́̃̈́͐̋̍̾̓͠͝͝͝͠e̶̤̙̦̱̼̖̰̰̱̻̞͓̬͈͕̠̞͙̟͕̪̫̜̱̾̇͌̈́̈́́̉͛̌͋͑̈̃̿͊̊͗̒͗̀̄̋̽͘͘͜͜͜͠ ̶̧̧̡̨̡̳̯̮̭̝̜̖͇̞͖̳̥̖͕͈̫̺͈͖̲̗̩̗̯͔̻̦̭̭̱̙͙͔̗͌̒͒̋̈́̈́̈́͊̊̇̌̌̾̒̊̌͌̃̆̂͘̚͜ͅͅl̸̨̨̢̛͍͖̱̙̳̫̣̜͕̙̰͚̻̙͚̮̮̟̥̯͇͖̬̫̪͓̞̠̤͎̙̤̝̘̻̗̘͈͖̘͈̙̎̈́̈́͌̒͗̐̊̈́̋̑̉̈́̈́̇̅̓̓͛̆́̂̋̊̄̋̽͋͗̏̈́̆̉̅̑̾̍̌̄͘͘̕̕͘͝͝ơ̵̡̨̱̦̺̙͖̩̘̜̤̯͇̩̣̭̖̰̙̱̣͉̲̲͚̻̖̹̬͓̟͔͍͚̗̫̹̞̹͇̤̮͍̣̌͋̍͋͛̈́̈́́͐͗̓̀͐̄́͑̆̃̌̕͜͝͝͠͝ͅͅờ̵̡̛͍̗̭̘͎̰̭͈̱̑̃̌̔̓̈́̈́̂͐̓͒̊̆̋̔͌͊̐̐̓̆̇̆͑͊͗͘͘̕͝͠ķ̴̰̻͖̻̲͖̼̻̪̲͇̫̤̭̻͚̱̔̈́̂̒̂̅i̷̩̠̳͎͖̭̰̪̮̟̮̩͕̣̙̝͈̰͍̬̿̌́̂̂̄̇͌̋͆̾̑̇̂̆̋̉̉͆̿͋̋̓̿̈́̌̕̚̚͝͠͝͝͝͝ͅͅn̸̢̢̧̲͍̗̝̙͚̥̹̤͚͍̮̙͖̣͚̞̞͕͍͗̑̈́̓̄̈́͘͜ģ̸̡̛̯̬̞̳̖̙̺̯̘͉̮͉̥̺̝̙͓͇͇̼̦̜͚̩͇̳͙̺̜̞͓̙̘̻̺͈̦̦̺̳̯̺̎̔̐̔̓̍̑̚͜͜͠ ̶̢̡̨̣̝̺̱̣͔͓͓̭̙͈̦̬̥͖͈̼̘̘̯̳̮̲̞̻̠̻̻͙̤̟̦͙͎̗̳̭̗̳̪̦̔̾͌͋̈͑̇̇̿̎̉̈́̌̃̏̌̂̓̈́͋̀̓̊̄̆̓͛̈́̇̏͆̅̈́̾̔̉͐̓̐͋̕̕͜͠ͅf̸͉͖͇̬̘̖͍̱̝̜̪͖̝̯̰̣̪̩̺̯͍̳͓̥͇͎̯͈̯̩́̾̑̋̐͌͝ͅͅo̷̢̡̦͔̹̟̟͕̭̞̙̞̻͚̖̬̩̝͈̮͔̟̳͍͕̤̪̓̈͌̓̐͂̈́̾́͐̏͐̊͐̓͜ͅṛ̵̭̙̖͙̖͚̠̗̥̔̿̓̒̈̈́͐͊͌̃͒̈́͑̔͒̽̄̓͌͐̓̈́̇̈̈́̉̒̕͘͘͝͝͝͝͠ ̶̡̡̢̲͓̘̪̙̭͇̝̦̬̠̪͓̥̼̯̫̞̰̻̯̭̱̲̿̿̒͋̾̾̅̀̈̏͆̒̄̿̿̈͋̓̈́̔̎̓̎͂̂͊͊͜͜͝͝͝͝͠͝m̸̢̯̯̹͚͍̙̻̫̟̪̼͖̻̭͈͔̩̻͉͉͙̥̬̤̝̲̯͛͌̿̈̓͆̊͊̾̃̃̆̒̌̎̅͗͐͑͊̽͐́̐̂́̐͊̏̎̔̽̕͜͠͠͝͠ȩ̵͔̤̟̪͙̣̫̮̞̫̻̤̦̫̬̜̗͑͑͑̌̈͊̆̆̋͛͗͂͌̏̋͑̚͝͝͠ͅ?̴̨̨̨̲͈̖͚͎̥͚͍̖͈̞̰̯̟͇̤̘̻͖͓̰͓̜̖͉͓͕̳̦̤͕͙͆͋̿͂̅̎̾̒͂̒̒͘͜ ̶̡̡̧̝̫̼̫̻͚͔͇͉̘̳̘̖̖̝͇̼̹͉̼̝̠͓̱̘̯̲͉͕̘̼̥̥̱̤̪̝̹̻̮̻̼̻̐͂̍͐̑̓̆̎̒̐̏͗̐͊̈́͛̀̅̿͂̋͑̈̏̂̈́͋̅̂͋͊̽̔̾̅̚͝͝͝͝ͅW̴̡̧̡͓̲͕͔̠̦̣̬͙͇͍͈͔̝̼̳͕͎͙͙͉̬̮̥̼͙̖̙͇͈̺̫̞̭̏̓̏ͅͅͅï̶̢̨͈͔̗̟̣̬͎̤͖͓̬̰̙̺̲̝͗̌͋̽̓̂̾̽̃̉͒͛̔̔̆̒̓͋͛͌͘͝l̷̢̘̯̟̣͈͔̥̝̺̣̻̩̪͐͑̐̿̑̉̍̂͒̅͛̊̈́̄͛̇̈́̄̓͐͛͘̕͘͠ͅl̴̤͚̥͙̫̜̟͚̲̼͖̊̑̅̽̃̏̍̒̓͌ ̵̛̛̫̯̹͇̠̠̻̦̣̥̼̀́̂̃̎̉̑͆̇̎͌̔̑̈͊͠͝͝ͅy̷̧̺̪̗̤̖̪̳̥͎̜͉̯̦̱̗̗̫͍̙͇̰̠̭͔̱̲̰̝͇͈̯͈͖̝͈̭̘̗̬̯͇̺͋͜͠ơ̸͎̖̲͊̓͌̓̀͐̆͑̉͊̄͆̂̓̑̓̈́̋͂̀͒̅̀̆̿̍̊̅͒͂͆́̓͘̚̕̕͝͝͠u̸̡̡͇̙̖̖͓̯̟̩̥̝̯̹̗̣͚͚̬̘̱̝̗̗͚̎̊̉̾͜͜ͅͅͅ ̵̢̡̛͇͙̺̣̳̹̺̭̭̩̠̫̝͗̏̅̓̅̈́͛͋͋͛̂̾̏̓͂̄̄̈̒̂̕͝s̵̡̨̬̝̦͎̪͓̦͉̞̹̞͙̻̖̯̠̣̗̭̯̻͖̖̠͎͎̺͉͈̱͇͛̃͛̄̓̓͗̈́̓̍̀͊̂͊̇̀͒̀̒̏̎̑͂̀̾̒̏̿̽͌̍͛̃͋͒̍͌̇͐͘͜͜͝ͅt̵̡̼̹͔͓̰̠͉̮̭̮͉̲̣̹͍͕̘̘̣̮̔͑͜i̷̡̙͙͖̻̣͚̠̳̯̙̱̗͍̜̥̰͖͈̙͎̤͉̠̤̭̙̥͓̦̯̻̜͔̣͗͌͑͆͌̂̐̕͜͜͝ḻ̸̡̧̘̻̠͍͖͈͓̗̺̖͇͉̥̲̯̔̿̈́̔̋̌́̂͌͒͌̾̏̈́̒̇̃͘̕͝͝͝ḻ̴̛͚̯̪͛̀͂͑̈́̈́͑͌̇̎͆̈͆̊̅͂̏̈́̍̇̈́͆̑̌͗̐̽̕̕͝͝͠ͅ ̷̨̢̧̡̢̗̩͚͙̰̱̜͍̳̩̝͔̞̳̹̹̫͍̦̮̖͇̥̺̎̑̎̈́̎̆̈̿̐̌͘͜͠͠ͅļ̴̨̨̛̛̖̝͙̬̝͙͚̬̬̮͇̘̟̝̮̝̲͙̻͈̹͓̥͉͍̱̫̎̑̇̎͊̿͒̋͂̑̀͂̌͋̉̃͒͑͂̈́̋͑̐̽̈͂͌̍̐̕̕͝͠ơ̵̗̺͙̘̫̮̔̄͐̆̈́͊͂̂̌̇̎̊̈́̅̌̾͐̈́̈̃̐̿͝͝v̶̧̝̣͔̊̄̒̎̐͑͊͛̊̒̑͛̊̓̔̌̓̇͒̍̈́̈͐͒̊̂͑̍̈́̐̏̊͐̕̚̕̚͝͝͝͠e̸̛̛͈͓̩̖͔̗̥͖͎̥̎͐͌̓̒͒̍̍̈́͐͋̓͑̓̈́̏͊͂̾̈́͌͂̾̚͝ ̶̛̺͙̲̤̻̬͔͕̲̫̳̖̘̩̻̗̓̒̐̎͛̈̄͐͗̏̑̔̂̍̊̌̊̐͘͜͠͝ͅm̶̧̼͓̫̺̩̦̭͖̙̬̿͆̆̅̔̃͛̈́̈̌̒͑͂̎͑̉͑̓͂̇̓̈͗̂͛̈́̀̊̈͊͑͊͛̍̊̾̓͒̋̚͝ȇ̵̢̢̞͖̰͎̮̻͇̥͒̇͒͌̕͝?̷̨̪̭͖̮̗͓͍̦͍͔͎̙̱̬͈̣̱̙̘͕̞̏͛͛́͂͘͜͜͠ ̶̧̢̧̨̧̧̡̛͈̯̻̳̺͉͈̫̰̗̯̱͍̰̫͍̩̮̭̳̫̜̪͍̩̭̯͈̰̺̟̟̝̳̺̞̌̓͒͛̐̂͊͗͋̈́̑̋͋̐̎̉́̈͋̉̽̃̃̓͐͘̚̕͜͝ͅͅͅD̷̢̡̨̟̤̦͎̗͎̠̰̭͇͈̼̙̝͚͚͙̝̲̜̪̻̟̤̩̤̈̽̉͆̔̒̄͋̔̂̓͋͐̍̃̄̄̐̑̈͆̐͆̾̈̇̂̔̄̃̃̃̓͂͌̒̇̋͗̑̂́̒̌͝ͅi̶̢̧̡̪̞̠̘̺̮̩̥͔̾͛͆̒͆̃̾͋͆͆̆̃̃͌̈̽̐̃͛̄́̏́̍̄͗̾̈́̐̎͂̎̓̂́͋͂͒̚͘̚̚d̸̡̢̛͙̣̘͓͋̅̎̔̔̆̐̑̓͋̔̉̏̏̽̎̑͛͊̈́̎̏̋̈̌̓̄̄͂͑̂̕̕͘̕͘͠͝͠͝͝ ̶̧̡̨̛̺̝͎̹̭͉̹͉̼͔̥͙̜̪̯̤̲͖̹͔͙̬̼͖̤͇̹͙͓̜̓͂̎́͌̄̈́͌̒͗̿̀́͠ͅẏ̴̢̧̧̧̖͔̟̦̲͙͕̞͔̬̹̺̞̗̼̻͓̮͉͇̝̱̞͜o̷̧̢̧̨͉͙̬͙͚͈̬̭̙̘̹͕͉̮̟̤͖̤̮̗̯̙͕͍̤̮̲̱̠̲̘̙͎̣͈̥̲͈̝̪̍̏̓̅̉̀̄͗̈́́̔̏̎̇͊́͗͌̃͘̚̕͝ͅͅu̸̧̡̧̧̡̨̺̫̼̣͙̖̦͙̣̲̪̘͕͔̫̙̝̙̤̫̺̙̥̣̝̦͚̻͎̬̗̇͗̂̿̃̊͘͜ ̸̛̭̻̙͖̰̪͙̟̲̦̦̯͕͔̼͍͇͙̥̗͈̮̮̤͎̹̠͖͓̿͌̂̈̊̌̓͌͑́͒̓͋̔͊͋̈́̈̈̂̎̉͆̓̿̾͛̏̋͒̒̋̍͘̚͘̕͜͜͜͝͝ͅẽ̷͈̜̣̹̗̭͕̮̗̻̘̻̭̭̥͇͔̖̜̖̼͎͇̟̩̱̤̙̹̱̎͗̑̇͑̂̍̍̔͌̇̅͂̈̽͘͜v̴̢̢̧̳͖͎͖̠̻̖̠̤̠͍̞̤̰͇̼͎̝͎̫̯͈̤̻̲̜̼͔͖̗̯̤͉͓̰̭̥̮͙̯̻̯͗̑̇͊̎̀͐̍͌̓̊͒̉̉̊̅͗͐͑̋͛͐͘̚͘͘͘͜͝͠ȩ̵̡̛̛͖̻͖͍̹͓̙͇̯͔͉̩͕̯̗̙̤̳̩̖̲̝͊͊̑̾̿̃̄̊̉̈́͊̒͐̐̈̐̿̕̚̚̚̚ͅr̴̡̲̾̓̿̒͂̂̈́̅͛̇̿ͅ ̵̨̤͍̤̬̯̜͖̮̜̰̓͜͜͜l̶̖̼̲̩̟̩̪̗͎͕̣͇̼͛̓̓̿̆̓̑͆̏̐͆̾̇͋̔͒̃̉̈́͆̉̈̄̉̌͌͗̋͆̚̚͝o̶̧̢̧̝͙̯͎͇͉̤͙̜̥̪̠̝̬̼͚̖̅̄̌̐̔͛͂͆͊̀̃͘͝v̷̨̛̛̪̫̮͓̖̥̩͚̺̤̲̦̦͎̻̤̪̯̰̪̺̝͉̻̞̝͔̮̟̳̠͈͑̄̂̈́̔͊̓͌͒͛̓́̋̄̈́̏̈́̉͑̾̒͌̒̚̕͠͝ͅͅę̶̨̧̛̛̣̞̩͖̠̣͎̤̮̲̼̥̥̖̦̝̝̦̥̥̱͈̲́̿̽̇̅̑̏͑͆͑̾͑̆̈̊̈́̓̀͒̕͜͠͠͠͠?̴͖̝͒̉̑̓͘͝ ̷̢̩͚̪͈͉̀̓̂̎̾͑͑̇̇̿̽̿̍̀̑͌̓͒̌̃̂̿̒̕͠Ơ̵̧͚͓̲̩̣̦̞̬̼̦̱̬̲̮̠̬̆̃̊́͆̊̌̈́̿͆̓̏̇͒̾̏͋͛̂̂̇͆̈́̇̀̚̕n̵̢̡̢̨̛̦̺̳̤͇͍̰͇̪̞̰̬͎͔̗̟͇̻̲͈͎̮͔̝̪͉͙͍͍̹͂̆̔̔̓̿̾̒͑̔͑̒̆͐̓̀͑̑͝͝e̸̢̢̧̧̛̮̤̮͖̹̹͙̤̫͍̮͎̬̲͍̣͖͖̰͈̳̱̞̖̰̹̜̰̲̼͑̎͛̌̇͐̏͋͐̉̏̈́̋̌͂̒̀́̋͋̔̽̄̋͌̇̃̽͑̔́̎͌͐͊̈́̊̕̕͜ͅ ̴̧̡̧̺̗̗̜͇͈̺̣̼̲̹̘̙̠̥̪͔̼̫̝̱̺̳̲͓͛̓̈͜ḑ̶̛͉̺͙̟̰̻̯̫̰̮̳̞̳̙̯̩̤̱̝̩̣̰̍͋̚ͅa̶̢̼͍̜̗͈̙̲͙̬̟̺͖̙̟̝̬͑͌̒̍̑̈́̇̚͝y̴̡̨͙̩͕̦̞̠̘̯̼͚͈̤̟̲͖̜͔͖̯̩̻͔̱̯̖̣̦̖̐̿͗͐̑̃̓̏̑̍͆̈́̍̄̄̃̈͗̓̾͊̿̈́̓͋̈͑͗̔̍̆͗̊̎̽̇̆̓͘͘͘͠ ̶̢̨̧̢̨̤͕̭͈̰̝̗̟͇̮̞̻̼͔̰̤̱̦̹̣͍̙̬̞͖̱͕̝̮̟͙͍͚͌̏͂͘͜ͅͅI̸̡̨͉̰̬͓̪̭͕̩͌͒̅͌̊̌̅͘̕͝͝ͅͅ ̶̧̢̡̢̧̡̛͎̭͕̺̰̤̟͔̫͇͓̣̩͚̝̠̱̞̈̃̋̍͆̇̌̂͊̓̓̃̌̈̏͛͛̐̈́̄̂̈̅̂̌̿͘̕͠͝w̸̢̧̧̛̛̭̬̪̘̺̤̫̥̻̖͎̯̠̹̯̼͔͙͔͍̜͙̤̮̦̯̺͎̩̭̹̞̯̱͇̭̺̙̰͕̘͓̥̾̔̈́̏̂̅̒̾̍̃̿͑͂̄̈́̈́̈́̈̃̓̃͑͊̈̄̎̈́̈́͆̆͆͐̀̌̒̓̌̚͜͠͠͝͝į̷̜̞̼̙̘͚̼̮͎͉̩̻̗̜͚̥̺͍̦͑̐͆̃̔̑́̒͆̏̄͆̑͗̀͜͜͝ļ̸̨̧͍͎̥̣̲͚̻̮̠̤̺̥͇̲̭̗͍̥͓̼̯͙͈͙̳̘̙̘̤̈̆̈̏͂̂ļ̶̨̪̗̟̬̫͉͇̲̰̯͍̘̦̫͉̠͍̞̰̜̩̤̲̪̗̫̰̟̺̙̯̱͙̯̽͑̋͐̉͛ͅ ̷̛̛̹̩̱̒̌̄̊̍͆͂͂̄̈́͗̀̓͛̓̒͌͛̃̆̾̇̎̒̓͆̓̒̂͑̒̅̐͂͂͘̚͠͝͠c̴̛̛͓̼̤̠̬͕͈̿̍̐̈́̔͊͌̀̈̋͑̀͆͂͋̾̽̀͂̄̋̌̿̌̽̑̕̕͘̚͝ͅo̵̧̡̰͎̲̗̦͕̬̥͉̪̹͇͙̪̘͓̪̝͎̙̬̝̠͓̦̔̐̄̈́̂̄̿̄̍͆͆̏͊̄́͊͊̿͗̓̋̃̊̈̈͐͌̅̍̓̓͊͂̓́͘͘̚͝͝ͅm̶̨̧̡̛̟̮̲͈͖̠̺̯͇͖͈̘̘̫̦̹̘͎̰̑͌̊̎̓͒̐͂̾̈̉̒͐̈̄͘͜͝e̴̗̻̒̄͗̎͝ ̶̛͇͚͓͓̠̘̹̬͔͔̫̥̩̳̤͙͎͍̦̺̳̠̫̙̤̈́͒̏͌̒͑̓̒͌̊͛̈́͒̎͗̍̍̓́͊̏̍͋̐͛̅̀̉͛͗͋̈́̀͘͝b̴̰̲͎͓̙̒̈́́͊̋̓̈́̈́̌͊͠ȃ̴͖̰̳̙̜̳̘̦̗̭̦̮͔̈́͒̆͜͠͝c̸͙͇̯̩͉͎̹̠̞̮̣̫͈͒͂̏͂̉͌͛̍̆̌͒̃̂̒̈́̓̾̾̿͒̿͐̂͗̊̊̿͐̔͂͊̂̐̈́̽̔̿̽̈͘͠k̴̢̢̢̨̢͙͎͇̘̪͍̠̬̯̪̩͈̯̥͈̰̲̱͙͓̖͎̄̃̀̌͊̓ ̸̡̢̡̮̞̰̞̰͓̭̣̼̲̠̠̞̥͕͍̜͚̣̰̻͎͍̠̻̮̼̻̬̙̺̳͍̱̪̈́̍͂̐̊͆̑́̅̓̒̃̎̒̐̊̎̈́̂͛͐͌̂̒̕̕͜͝ͅa̷̢̧̼̫̖͓̠̰͖͉̗̤̲͈̻̜͇̐̾̓̐̓̀̊̾͂̆̊̆̅̎̊̆̾̐̐͑̾̒͝ͅn̸̡̛̠̗͖̜̝̥͖̰̼̉̈́̅̐̆̑̅̓̅̇͋̈́̑͋̅͌̑́̑͐͆͆̌͑͂̍͌̚̕͘͜͠d̵̡̪̟̣̟̞̬̟͎͍̙͓̞̤̘̆͑̂͗̕͠ ̸̡̢̡̝̮̰̻̪̘̝̼̫̩͈͖̤̤̻̳̝̞̻͇͈͇͉͔͚̝̖̟͓̖̯̼̫̩̃̓̈͗̇͋̐̽̑̿̌̌̍͊̌̇̓͒̇͂̀͐͑͝Ḯ̸̢̧̛̜̠͔̫̤̲̹̦͚̞͓̰͎̮̀̅͌̓͑̅̋̍̐͌͋̓̾͑̑͑͆͑̀͛̈̋̍̀̃̌͌̀̉̍̊̂̀̚̕͘͜͝͠ ̵̧̛̛͎͉̣̠̪̖͕̠̤̦͇̖̰̞̖̯̦͖͇̤̮͈͖̠̟͇͖̻͔̱̖̳̖̼̻̯̤̥̺͆̈́̎̓̈̃̈̽̿̿̈́̂̀̽̔̅̉̇̐̇̂̕͘̚̚͜͝͝͠͝͝w̷̛͚̖̘̍͐̅̂̍͊̊͐̂̉̈́̊̊̿̑̊̉̽̇̇͋̾̇͌̽̎̇̈́̄͐͊̄͆͋̐̚͘͝͠͝͠͠͝͠ȋ̴͇͍̮̘̬͍̻̘̤̭͐͒̏̔̒͑̒̿̒̾͂̈̍̐̅͒̓̇͆͐̀̋̿̐̈͑͋̉̃͒̑̿͑̕͘͝͝l̵̨̢̛̫͚͍̯̥̥̯͇̖͚͇̞̟͎̙̲͚͕̹̈̉̀͌̄̆̅̿͂͐̉̑̊̆̉͆̓͒͌̚ͅl̵̢̛̛̯͍͉̹̣̰̫̙̻͙͗̈͛̓̈́̍̀̓̀̃̑̈́̾͐̈́̓̆̐̈́͒͊̊̈́͗̔͜͝ ̵̨͈̯̭̙̫̭̀̌̈́͂̒̇͑̿͐̒̏̌̎̃͐͛́̕̕̚s̵͚̪͈̖͇̏̓̾̊̾͊̓̅̐͐͛̈́̉͝t̸̡̧̧̨̡̨̛̛̛̠̫̼̟̙̘͓̥̩̲̗̘̲̙̫̤͖͓̪̪̱͕̣̗͖̭̘͉̖͉̳͔͙̙͚͙̺͖̅̈̎̏̾͌̌̊̐̀͌̾͌̑́̾̑̉͂̾͂͑̐̍̄̆͊̋͒͂̕͘̚͘͜͜͠ȁ̶̧̮̯̩̼̤̝̖͖͙̣͚̈̋͐̏̃̈́̄̉̿͌͛͒̓͋͛̀͘̕y̵̧̨̛̟̻̹̲̹̙̯͉̠̲̞͈̮̞̼͉̹͍̅͐̾̋͂͆̋̌͒͐̅̉̍͒̑̒͆̂̈̈̓̆̓̃̃̄̿̃̈́̒̚̚̕͘͘͠͝ͅ ̷̢̨̛̣̝̫̇̅̉͋̐̾̽̋̈̎͛͛̉̈́̈́̾͋͝b̸̡̘̙̪̥͚̘̜̞̬͕̟͍̻͕̙̦̹̖̼̫̦̯͓͖͓͐̈͐̋̕e̸̢̢̢̧̡̢̢̢̢̳̼͙͇͇̼̰̩̲͖͕͎̯̗̼͖̯̦̥͎̹̯̞̺̘̥͗̏͌̚ͅh̵̡̡̡̧̡̰̝̤͎͔̬͓̣̗͚̳̗͕͓̦̥͖̜͕̜͇̞̦̘͉͈́̉̐̓̔̈̆̊͌̆͌̇̅͗̈́͐̑͋̆̀͆͛̂̏͐̇̒̈́̈́͑͑͑̓̐̂̃͘̚͠͠͝ͅǐ̵͙̲̊͑͋̈̋̇͐͂͒́̑̃͗̚͠ͅn̶̨͍̘̯͙̗͓̦͇͍̗͔̩̺͚̲̟̯̯͍̘̥͈̰̼̦̲̣̊̇̌̀͌̇͂̎̉͊̔͛̽̂͘͘͜͝d̸̢̢̘̮̝͈͍̘̠̩̝̟̜̳̣̤̠̟̞̱̣̯͚͖̪̞̟̼̖̰̺̭̣͍͌̐̇̉̊͂̑͛̑̽̔̈́̕͠ ̴̢̢̢̛̯̮̤͎͇̩̝̯̹̟͙͈͈͐̍͂̓͗̀̈́̍͋͒͋̂̅͐̓͂͊͌͒͐̈́̈́̋̽̈́͒̽̐̂̃̈́̍̉̇̈́̓́̀̽͘͜͝͝ͅͅȳ̵̢̡̨̧̭̹̝̹̗͖͚͉̣͎̭̰̭͈̫̯̣̖͉̭͔͔̖̣̙̥̜̻̞͙̬͔̹̘͉͗̿̆́͗̏͆̈͒̏̐̿͗̓͊͋͋͌̽̀͛͂̏͘̕͝͝͝͠͠ͅò̵̢̞̮̦̻̥̱̠͉̫̤̗̘͍̳̪̺̺̖̲͖͎̣̮͓͈͇̅̂̒͛́̏̀̄̈́͂̈́̉̉̽̔͊͗̃̅̓̑͗̓̎̅́̑̿͊͐͜͝͝͝͝u̶̡̧̧̡̡͍̰̰̠̝̹͇̲͙̥̩̯̖͉͔̞̟̗̲̺͗̓̈́̊͒̈͌̿̀̅̏͒̅͘̚̕͜ͅͅŕ̵̝̤͚͆̽̇̈́͌̑͊̎͋͊̆̓͋̓̒̋̂͗͗̾̃̆͐̽̇͛̄̚͠͠ ̸̭̱͈͕̖͚̤͚̱̞̖̺͍̘͈͉͍̻̱͇̰͕͆̋̽̃̑̍̇̋̊̈́̑̌͒̿̈̄̄̓͘͘͝s̷̨̨̢̭̼͉̬̮̭̙̞̣̻̱̜̳̦̭̼̻̜̣͚͍̪̥̱̝͖̲̮̐̈́͊̓͛̎͒̾̋̌̾̾͝͠͝ͅh̵̛͓̱͒̋͂̋̀̓̔͂̃̇͊͐̎̅̀̑̐̔͘͠͝͝ò̸̞̦͇̞̲͎̻̤̜̬̼̭̩̬̼̣̘͉͒̓̌͑͊̍̒̈͆̍̊̑̄̔͒̔̓̈́̇̾͛̿̇͗̉͗͌͆͑̆̕̕͝͝͠͝u̷̡̨̧̩̬̞̗͚̱͚͓̞̳͇̥̪̪̖̣̠̤̤̝̱̯̠̜͉̘̞͉̱̦̜͕͈͍̅̄̑̐̆̈͂̍̀̌̓̔̈́̾̋͌̏͜͝͝ḷ̴̛̛͈̹̯̦̪̗̗̤͚͂̈́͋̿͛̑̄̅͌̀̊̄̽͆̿͌̈́͒̋͝͠d̸̢̡̧̡̢̨͎̗̘̝̤̘͍̥̹̝̪̱̤̺̻̠̫̫̩͙͕̜̮͚̮̗̠͈͙̠̟̬͚̬̬̓̈́̾̈́̓̀͊͌̎͐͂͛̑̽̑̋̍̾̚͜͜͝͠ͅe̷̟͚̠͛̄̎̉̂͂̇͊̌͛̓̊̌͘͘̕r̶̡̨̥̣͖̝͕̝̤̦̪̳̟̲͉̠͖̜̭̯̠͙̘̜͙̜͚͖̭͈͍̝̜͕̫̺̙̗̗͈̰̖͗̔̿̆̅̋̋̈́̓̇̅́̂̑̃͑͌̽̈́̒̉̓̔̚͠͝͝͠,̶̧̛͕͙̘̹̳̓̽͑̈͐̾͗̈́̿̈́̔̾̂̐͛͑͗̕̚̕͝͝ ̷̨̫̦͉͔̦̮̥̱̼͚̝̟̳̟̖͓̰̖͙̞̥̖̜͔̼̲̲̠͉̥̯̝̫͎̄̏̓̋̂̈̎̈́̆̉̂̈́̓͗͐̽̈̏̀̈́̅̆̈́͘͝͠ͅI̶̧̡̡̧̨̛̬͈̹̖̫̗̞̮͓͕͙͚̞̮̗̘͇͎̭̻̥͚̘̻̞͖̪̥̘͇̰̳̐̃͊̑̏͋̐̽̍̀͆̃̏̓̋͂̊̆͋̀̓͛͆̑͛̿̄̅̔̃̃͗̄͆̃͂̅͆͌́͝͝͝͝ ̵̨̡̡̰̙̬̱̲̖̥͎̖̼͔̹̠̠͇̝̙͖̬̭̻̬̯̱̟̖̤̼̱̗̺̫̪̺̹̩͎̲̘̑̈́̏̏̌̽͊͋̿̉̍̄̚͜ͅw̴̨̡̜̻̤̹̰͔͓̺̹̗̪̝͉̪̤͈̭̱̫̲͍̣̺̺̲͉͇̬̪͈͙̞͖̤̦̲̹̲̭̦͙̒̃̑̇̅̂̆̓̒͌̅̊̔̽̐͐͑̌͊̈́͋͛͛̎̅͗̌̂̔̃́̚̚͜͝ĩ̴̡̟̥̘͓̜͈̘̞̭͓̟͓̯͇̳̫͚̻͓͇͇̱̹͓̙̲̖̥̳͈̺̤͔̦͎̦̙̹̙̪̗̘̤̩̅͌̍͒̎͐̈́͐̔͐l̴̩̰̲̬͍͉̻̽͑̓̈́̄̾̈͌͒̎͂͌͒́̽̑̃͒͋̈́̎̓͗̽̈́̕͘͘͘͝͝͠l̷̢̛̛̰͉̗͓̻̗̭̤͉̤̹̜̜̫̙͓̦͓͙̜̻̩̘̫͕̮̣̦̪̰̩̟̪̯̘̫͎̼͊͛̑̅̌̓̉̓͆̾̑͒͒̄̆͗̐̆̓̂̋́̈͋̿̀̊͒̓̅̈́͑̿̿́͑͑͘͜͠͝͝ͅͅͅ ̷̮͓͓̠͔͉̥̠̱̖̜͛̋̉̀͝ḅ̷̡̢̳̮͓͈̟͈̹͈̲̜̥̺̣̖͙̓͐̑͋̽̂̀̃͊͑̂̔̇̌͛̈̈͛̍͊̾̈́̋̒̈̂͋́͌̽͛͊̂͋̎̚͘͜͝͝ͅŗ̸̡̛̛̗̮̻̝̻̺̠̺̪̙̰͈̤̭͉̫̣̤̮̩̯̼̟̝̯̖̰̮̯̙̝͈̩͈͍̙̺̻̯̺͙͔̭̙̹̒̾̂̐̈́͐͆͐͂̊̐̐͒̈͋̉͑̔̈́̇̆̅̿̽̅̽̌̇̂̕̕͝͠͝ͅȩ̸̢̨̢͉͚͔͕̝̯̬̤̣̪͔͇̪̣̘̱͈̖̦͍̰̫̺̳͖̮̤̟͍̥͌̇̇̑̌͑͐̀̎̃͘̚͜͜ạ̸̛̛̻̩̘̝̟͗̉́͑̈́̂̃͆̔̉̔͌̃̾̑̅͋́̐̂́̊͊̑̒̉̀͌͋͂̃̌͛̾̆̓̕͘̚͠͝͝͝t̸̨̢̛̬̩͕̝͂͋͒̂͛̆̔̅͒̉̑̍͊̇̄̈́̐̒͆̌̿͆̊̉̔͛̽͒̄̓̕̕͜͠͝͠͝͝h̷̡̨̧͓͚̪͉̣̟͉̟̯̗̩̦̙̦̖͖̳̬̖̮̫̤̲͕̤̲̙̜̘̽̆͗̋̂̉̀̄͛͊̂͗̃̒͂̃͆͌͒̚͜͜͜͜͝͝ͅe̷̢̡̛̛̛͕̞͔̻̤̰̣̫̬͓̼̰̻͈̞̼̟̠͔͉̠̳̞̣̞̭͇̬͉͖̠͇̝͇̹͖̹̜̗̍̆̈́͐̌̂̄̊͂̽̂͌͋͊̎͛̆̔̔̿͛̈̈́̃͋̉̉͐̓͆̌̊̔̓̚̚̚͘͝͠͝ͅ ̶̨̢̨̡̡͈͚͔͓͇͇̲͉͚̼͈̤̏̏̀͐͆̆̒͑̅̈́̈̐͛̾̿̈́̓̂̈́̒͘͝͝d̷̡̟̻̮̜̟͉̦̫̝͔̞͚̟͙̗̮͎͔̟̫̯͕̹̅̓̾̎́̄̆̈̿̀̑͐̔̃̋͆͐̈̓̉̇́͑̓̿͑̊̅̈̏̌͘̕͜͝͝͝o̵̖̬͖͙͓̜͍͚̿̔͂̊̉͌͋͌͗͋̈͂̂͊̄͋̓̇̄̓̓͂̆̓͊͛̽̈́̄͂̍͂͌͊̔͋̊̉̍̂̚͘͠͠w̴̧̧̢̡̡̛̛̟͖̖̱̘̞̗͇͔̣̗̦͉̝̦͖͈͚̝͙͙̘̖͚͖͔͛͗̇̍̍̾͋̿̒́̔͂̈́͌͑̓̉̌̃̆̈̕̚͝ͅn̸̨̨̛̛̛̙̥̙̹͖͕̮̖͎̬̭͈̖̱̲͔͎̹͕̤̫̲͙͓͖̜̩̭̪͖͗̆͂̂̏̽̂͒͆̽̇̔̑͂͌̈́̒́̍̾̓̓̽̄͋̎̃̚͘̚͠ͅ ̷̡͙̹͚̭̬̼͆̾̈́́̈́̓̓͘̚͠y̷̡̡̛̛͓͎̗̬͕̝̘̬̙̺̲̯͔̞͉͇̱̲̟̙̥͓͔̙̘̬̥͚̰̔͗̓̈́͋̈͒̍̓͑̎̑͂̽͛͊̿̋͂͂̈́̊͊͂̋͘̚̚͜͠͠ơ̷̡̢̨̢̢̛̛̻͇̤̘̩̼̣̱͉͖̮͙̟͉̪̦̯͔̯͚̗̟̖͚̹̫̱̻̼̎̓͋̐̔̋̈̎̎̊͆̅̀̈́͌̃̋̋̈́̒͌͊̏̇̑̈́͌̂͒̏̇͋͘͝ͅͅṵ̶̢̨̡̨̭͉̞̺̬̟̫̭͇̺̙̪͈͚̘̦̣̠̞̤̝̪͕̜͉̱̲̯͈̹̩̩͓͎́̔͗͑̉̒̏̈́́̎͌̈́͌͗̐͘͝ͅȓ̶͙̙̭̥̣͖̟̬̱͍͙̖̤̱͓͚͕̙͙̤͎͈͍̖͓̑̈́͛̾̂̾̎͌͊͒̔̂̅̍̊̃̿̊͊͛̂̒̉̂̋̈́̍̐͌̂̌͂̉̎͗͘͝͠ ̴͍̗͛̋̈͒̍̃͊̆̓̈̚͠͝n̷̜̈̍̀̈ë̵̡̨͕̺̜̳̻̩̜̲̝̹̤̠͚̤̰͈͖͙̗̼͖̺̥̗̲̼̗͖͔̪͎̫͖͓͚̖́̈͊̒̓̉͂̋͌̎̇͂̃̍̽̑̈́͌͗̇̒̔͛͒̄͗̾̚͘͝c̶̢̨̡̡͍̖͍̥͇̺͕̮͓̬͍͖͍̟̙̖̱̯̺̗̦̜̫̻̘̼̯̖͍͎̰̟̳͉̯͇̗͊͌̃̍̏͂͋͐̓̍̓̀̀͊̍͗̊̉͊̃̄̉̊̀̽̚͜͝͝ͅͅk̵̡̧̛̛̛͍̠̲̦͚̳̟̹͙̅̓̒̍̽͑͋́̌͗̅͗̋̒̒̈́̐̈̏͋̏͋͌̆̂̆͛̐͆́̐͑͘͠͝͝͝͠,̸̡̧̨̛͓̳͉̙̰͍͔̟̺̠͑͆̂̒͗̂̓̆̉̀͒̌̒͑̈́͛̎̈́̅̓͑̅̓͂̈́̒̅͌̈̚̕̚͝͝͝ͅ ̷̧̧̨̛͖̲͇̭̼̗̼̗͙͎͉̳̙̣̗̖͙͔̘͍̹͇͉̻̹̗̝̥̜̹͖̪͉͚̞͓̞̼̱̫̙̄̿͐͑͋͆͐͆̆̓̏͋̿̒̎̅͛̄̈̓͋͐͌̽̄́͒͂͂̆̍́̿̓͆̕͜͠͝ͅa̷̡̫̠͓̺̥͉͍͈͈͇̯͈̤͉͆̂̽̽̿͋̃̎̐̓̆͂̐̆̀̒͛͊̊́͐͐͐̿͊̎͋̊́̾͋̇͛̒͋̔̊̑̆̚̚͘͜͠n̸̨̢̛̛̺̜͚͎͙̳̦̪̫̦͈͖͎̦̘̲̺̣͓͍̦̘͈̙̰̙̳̪͔̭͇̗͕͚͖͖̬̰̻̪̈̏̔̈́̂͒̈̅͊̉͗̍̈̔̐̈͛͒̓̂̄̓̓̾̾̿̋͊̾͐̚̕̚̚͠ͅͅḑ̶̨̰͎̫̗̼̪͓͈̳̹̠̣̝̤͎̼̥̯̬̗͔̻͔̻̮̬͎̩͎̟͇̺̩̬͖̪͇̩͓̖̭̺͓͌ͅ ̷̥̥̫̺͙̦̩̣̞̣̱̰̻̤͚̜̰̖͇̺̫̥̣͚̤̗͎̯̻̲͙͈͖̻͆̇̀̌̂͋̇̋̀̓̿͑̐̈̈́̌̃̎̓̓̅͊̌̔̐̏͗̈́̄͘͘͜͝ͅẅ̵̛̬͙̺̌̀̏͒́͗̈́͌͊̓̿͠h̸̢̜͓̥̺͖̦̺̠̟͍͈͎̞̺͙̭̣̩͇͇̓͛̿̆͜e̴̦̭̩͗̉͘ņ̴̬̻̺͉͇̯̗̜͇̥̬͍͒͒͝ ̸̨̡̨̡̢̺͇̹͖̪͈̤͎̠̹̯̟͎̝̯͔̮̥̺̭̝̖̝̹̦̦̮̪̙̪͎̝̳͚̯̰̯̲̎̾͜ͅͅy̵̨̨̨̡̧̢̛͚͓̯̗̦͕̬̳͎̭̜͈̹̦̺͔̘͉͎̗̣͌͆͜͜͜ͅó̶̹̿̂ų̶̛̛̛̟͎̤͕̱͈̹͈̥͎̈̅͛̒̆̆̅͌͊̔̓̿̃̃̄̽̍̐͊̂͒͑̽̅͊̈̾̓̀͌̃̐̂̆̚͠͝͝ ̴̨̡̢̡̜͇̺̼̖̠̮̜̬͈̤̰͍̣͎͍͖̞̭̤̱̗̥͍̮̯̬̫̯̝͕̾͒ͅͅͅͅa̸̩̞̓̋͛͌̑͗͗̆͆͒̎͂̍̄͘̕͘͘͝͠͝r̸̖͗̋̉͂̅͂̑̅͂̏̀̀̄̑́͊̄̄͛̔̄̄̄͑̏̚͘ȩ̵̧̡̡̛͍̜̟̱̣̦͉̭̮̭͔͔͈̙̳͖̩̘̙̬̘̭͙̝̲̥̲̗̖̖̳̪̼̥͊͐́̊̽̉͐̇̂͂̑̈́̈́̃̽̓̄͆͌̇̿̕͜ͅ ̵̧̡̡̡̨͔̼̯͈̫̤̥̱̩͚̩̝̝͕̪͙̖͈̗͑̓a̸̛̝̿̿̄͆̋̾̇̽̍̕̕s̴̨̧̨̡̧̝͙̟͙̰̞̻̖̘̗̬̭̬͉͚͍̫̙̞̭̻͇͈̱̩̭̮͚̥̫̲̼̪̦͗̀̇̊̈́̂̏͑̎͋͂͆͘ͅl̸̡̢̡̜͈͓͔̝̰̤͉̳̞̓̾͜e̸̡̨̺̤̠̟̣̺͖̘̖̺̤͊̀̍̓̈́̃̃̌̑̒̋͛͆̈́̌̓̒̅̈͑̊̄͝͠ȩ̷̧̢̨̫̼̬̮̺̬͈̜͇̱̦͖̗̗͕̯̼̼̲̪̭̦͚̯͙͕̘͕͔͚͇͖͔̪̞̿̃̑̈̊͐̔̏̅̿̄́͒̐̀̄͘͜͠ͅp̴̨̨̧̨̡̛̯̳͇͙̜̰̙̻̗̱̰̠͍̤̗͚̼̻̤̬̞͊̊̃͐̈́̈̄͊̒̀͋̂̂̾̓͂̾͑̊͘͝͝ ̷̡̧̧̨̛̮̜͎̯̖̗̭̹͓̲͎̗͇̩̦̤̟̤̙̯̘̱̬̰̠̙͕̩̰̖̘͈͔̍̉͌̔͋̄̎̐͊͌̌͂̄̃̒̇̊̈́̋̊̊̓̋͗̈́͛͑̂͒̍̿̕̚͜ͅI̵̢̡̲͔̝͍̺͚̱͚͙̬͔̭̝̫̦͍̹̱̫͖̩͇͓̖̥̭͈͈̙͖͕̓͌̿͋̅̉̂̍̾̓͑̎̇͊̓͛̍̆͊̄̌̾̚͝ͅͅ ̷̛͚͕͚̠̦̩͙̩̟̲̬̈́͂̔͆̉̋̓͊̊̏̀̀̓͑̃̎͊̂̈̂͗̓w̸̧̧̧̡̢̺̮̦̭̰̻͚͖̞̣̭̗̼̲̞̥̥̮̝̟̳͙̺͎̖̞̰̗͚͔̥̱͔̫̥̙̜̮̰͓̹̟͋̎̔́̈́̋̽̄̍̑̈́̋́̈́̽̆̆̍̎̑̿́̈̑̉͒͑̒͋̽͗̅̈́͂̔͛̃̚̚̚͘ͅi̷̡̢̡̨̡̡̢̥̟̥͔̠̤͍̜̺̺͔̹͙̠̙͚͕͇̹͋͌̐̄̌͋͊͛̓͊̉̆̐͜͜͜͠͝ͅl̴̢̛̛̖̮͙̼̳̭̺̗͍̬͈̙̬̖̙̣̯̋̋͌̓̇͊̉̔̿͒̀̎̊̔̈́͋̊̄̈́͒̔͋́͆̽͗͗̃̈͊̓̈́̎̕͘͝͝ͅͅl̵̡̢̡̧̛͙̼̻̟͎͇̪̮̳͈̗͔̻͚͈͙̥͍̠͉̦͚̱̤̳͔̼̻͉̮̲͎̞̥̭̩̲̩̞͚̼̇͂͛͋̊̆̇̉̆̈̾̌͘̕͘͝͠͠ͅ ̵̡̢̇͐̊̏̓̿͂̓̃͊̚͘ḫ̵̽̔̉ä̸̢̨̡̗͚̟͎͇͕͔͎̪͍̬̼̩͙̮̹̻̯͚͚̞̮͙̳͕̤̼̦́̊́͒̓͐̃̾̓̍͒̕͝͝u̸̢̨̳͕͓͔͈̣̭̤͕̰̼̙̩͉͉͕̻͉̞̪͈̹̲͋͒̎̍̄̐͋͑̉̍̎̚n̸̨̨̡̧̛̳̣̣̜͈̩̱͔͓̱͕̼̖̦̜̝̜̳̙̟͇̙̪͙̹̟͍̳̮͉̤͆̒̊̂̆̋͛̔̒̒͒͗̓́̽͛͐͂̊͐̌̆̑͌̂̆̏̈̏̓̕͝͝͝͝͠ͅͅͅͅt̸̺̻͗͗̔̃̂̀̏̔͋͊̂̽̈͊̈̾͋̒̈́̊̂̕̚͘̚̕͝͝͝͝͠ ̸̧̧͓̫̭̩̱͓̖̼̜̭͍̞͓̩̣̦̹̫̤͓̪̦͙͍̼͚̭̯̭͈̱̻͇̹͓̳̻̀́̃͋̏͒͗̓̆̊̊̏̅̇͘͜͜͜͝͝͝͝͠ͅy̷͔̖̥̦̣͙̱͓̜̗̠̮͚͙͚͍̝͕̙̝̱̫̒̄͋̐̎͊̄͛̔̓̿̂͂̍̅̈́̌͋̄́̓̒̋̾̎̇̆̍̊̿̾̏̾̐̽̊͌͂̆͘̚͝͝͝ơ̸̢̢̡̛̛̩̥͍͇̮̩͙̩̻̝̮̥̣͈̼͎̺̱̖̠̳̣̤̼͗̆͗̑̽̅͗̉̇̀̃̈͒̋̄͂̂̄́̚͜͝u̶̻̮̹͖̟̐̓̍̚ŗ̴̧̡̧̗͖̳͔̣͔̭̳̘̩̝̮̬͇̲͖͇̙͈̳̟̼̜͖̼͌̊͑̎̑͆̂͋̀̈́̉̎̂̌̐̃̿̉͒́̅͒̃͒͊̑̒̒͑͐͛͘̕̕͝͠ ̵̨̗̞̘̰͖̥̄̏̌́̓͊̿̓̓̾́͆̍̓̕d̴̡̢̳̫̦̙͚̬͔͓̯̼̻͙̣̰͈͔̹̠̻̻̤̠̹̪̗̳͌͜ͅŗ̴̛̛̗͕̥̼̟͙͇͈̪͖͓̰͈͎̼̥̖̺͙̪̣͖̃̃̇̓͒̍̈́͊͊͒̊̏͐̇͒̉̇̔̃̕̚̕̚͘͜͜͠͝è̸̢̨̥͙̯̣̖͖̙͚͍̪͚̱͉̼̗͙̞͍̩̜̦̼̲̼͖̳̖̻̳̦͓͔͖̬̺̌̈͆͆͛̒̉̿͛͋̈̽̔͂̂͋́͌̋͊͂̅̓͐̈́̏́̎̎̾̋́͂̊̕̚͘͠ͅå̷̮̿̽̊̿̔͐͂̄̿̆͆̄́̈̍̂̅̓̆͛̔̂͒̅̕͘̚̕͘͝͝͝͝͝m̸̧̨̼͙̳̻̩̲͕̜̙̲͇̮̪̣̬̜̖͍̳͒̋͛͜͝͝͠s̷̢̡̛̛̛̫̰̘͉̱̟̣̥̲͕̘̺̦̰̗̠͖͙̱̞͎̯̰̭͉̗͙̜̭̤̠̝̟͔̠̃̀̌͛̈͐͋͛͂̊̔͒̅̇̔̆̆̔̃̿̉̏̅̍̾̔̋̉̌͊̽̚͘̚͝͝ͅ,̷̻̜̱͇̹̬̱̾̇̾͛̓̓̍̃̈̒͊̈̌̒̆͆̀̄̑͋̌͌͋̈̌̚͠͝͝ͅ ̸̡̯̝̫́I̸̡̢̡̧̛͖̤̮̪̰̩̥̱͇͇̤̪̦̦̺̥̪̫͈̲̙̠̳͖̥̟̟̭̫̩̥̘̺̻͈̝̻̪͉͍͚̋̓̿͗̀̌̎̍͑̋̀́̀̉̅̂̓̎͆́̂̇͂̀͐̄̂̔͐̽̅̆̍̈́̓̕̕͜͜͝͝͠͝͠͝͠ ̴̢̛̛̛̛̛͓̳͕̘͕̪͇͙̼̫̝̣̝̦͇̘̟̤̠͎̪̖̖͈̺͖̲͇͚̘̩̯̜̎̌̇̾̊̈̈̄̉̊́͛͌̑̑̋͋̈́̂̊̾̓̓͑͂̐̕͝͠w̵̜͔͈͔̠̮̬͈͓̝͔̏̃̌̈͒̀͗͆̓͗̓̄̊͊̌͊̍̅̃̾̐̌͊͛̇̄̉̉̊͆̅͌͗̓̑̿̄̈́͘̕̕̚͘̚͝͠i̵̢̭̗̼͍̖͔͐͆̄͛͊̎͌̈́͠l̵̢̧̧̡̹͍̣̮̫̩͕̰͙͓̥͉̭̭͔̱̬̬͔̳͓̼̪̭̼̱̠͔̣̂̈́͆̏̈͆͒͒̈̄̿͊͒̃́̉̓̓͐͗̽́̈́̃̌͛̀̍͛̾͋͒͌̉̒͘̕͠͠͝͝͝͝ͅͅļ̵̡̢̢͕̯̭̳̦̯̩̙̠̞̩̠̙̺̬̫̺̲͇̦̼̰̫̳͕̤̥͎̲̝̞̥̬̭̍̀̊̾̽̊̏͑͆̒͒̒̓̃̂̌͐̋̋́̿̆̽̐̿̐̓͛̚̚̚͘͝͝͝ ̷̡̧̡̡̢̝̖̬͚͇͍̹͖̠̺͉̥̩̳̫̫̰̻̮̞̯̝̠̰̖͉̝̻͎̥͎̟͖̦̝̋͋̎͋̌͝ͅw̶̛̘͖̮̃̀̊͆̂͑̏̉̃̉̆͑̅͂̽͊͛͂͑̓̏̊̑̔̐̋͗̍̑̏̓̈́̌́̏̒̕͠͝͝ŗ̶̢̨̨̢̙̭̝͖͈̯̹̞̫̗͇̫͚̖͙̫̺͖͓̠͉͎̜̦͉̞̯̫̣̹̤͇͙̪̆̆̈̿͊̂̓̀̈́̽͂̈́̄̀̿̈́̎̈́͑̍͗́̆͐̽̅͗̋̆̐̓̍͋͗̔͘̚̕͘͜͝͝͝ͅį̴̡̼̩̦̹̳̳̱͕̮̼̹̤̺̣̺̯̙͈͈̺̩͔̣̬͚̻͙̱̲̫̫̝̞̭̼̰͎̜͒̎͆̒̄̓̄̊̑̿́͒̈́̚͜͜͠ͅͅͅn̸̡̧̪͈͎͚̼̻̞͙͕͓̻̬̋̉͊̄͆͋͜͝͝ͅg̷̡̢̨̛̝̘͔͖̙͉̯͙̩̮͚̗̮̰͍̠̙̺̃̿̈́̉̈́͊̈́̎͒̌̈́͗̒̈́̾̄̇̊̾̊̽͒͘͜͝͝͝͝ ̷̢̨̨̢̛̱̯͎͇̱̘̳̯̜̲̱̤͎̣͎͖̩̜̝͙̤̺̮̟̺̭̇̌́̄̐̐͂̾͌̂͐̏̋̌̓̈́̍͂͌͌͌̾͐̕̚̚͘͝͝͠ÿ̶̨̧̢̡͕̮̜̜̦̺̱̺͓̠͈̘̭̫̞̗̱̣̝͇͎͇̗̣̭̜̮͕͇͖̤͕̠̱̠̖̮̺̰͎̯́́̿̄̅̂͗̈́͛̂͊̑͑́̓̽̔̇̽̚̚͜͝ͅǫ̴̨̛̛̛̙̗̦͔͈̫͙̥̰̘̭̣̽͑̓̽̉̓̓̅̌̊̒̈́̔̓̈̿̆̆͑̉̓̈́́̒͊̅̒̈́̿̒̇͂͘͘͘͜͝͝ų̴̡̛̟̯̳͉͍̼̥̫͍̳̠̙͉͚͓̥͉̣͓̠̹͙̻̜̜̬̱̮̼̝̦̞͓͉̯̓̌̎̒͂̆̔̂̉͛̉͘͘̚͠͝ͅͅͅr̵̢̢̪̹̥͖̘̻̦͕̮͑͗̄̒̊͑͜͠ ̸̢̳̫̳͎̘̜̣͙͔̹̺̲͈̮̱̭̻̈́̔͛̈́̃̔͋̎͌̄̓̋͂͋̊̄̈́͒̏͛͂̈́̇̓̋̅̋̃͑̀͊̈́͒͘͘͝͝͝n̵̨̡̢̡͙͉͓̼̰̣̦̳̙̻̘̙̮̹̞͎͕̭͖̻͓͔̰̦̠͚͖̻̟͓̻̘̒̿̃͑̎̔̒̈̍̌̃̏̈̿̐̂́̒̇̌͆͊͒͆͆͘͜͜͠ͅͅͅȩ̶̱̔́̐͋̉͠c̸̢̨̨͓̟͙̹̻̗̳͔̙̖̹̻͕̪̰̱̣̖͎͙̝̦̣̮̪̮̩͚̮͓̹̝͖̣̱̲̬̱͉͕̟͍͚̤͛͒̇͛͊́̄͌̅͒̏̑͐̓̈̆̍͒̕͝ͅk̸̡̛̹̠̥̞͚̖͕̮̭̑͆͠.̸̧̢̢̨̛̠̜͚͈̼͔̲̙̪̺̰̟̺̙͉̻̜͓̺̙̠̲̳̭̹̗̫̹̥̯̬̽͆̆̉̀̌̈́̓͆̓͒̑͑̏̓͆̆̃̆͋̌̌̎͑̾͜͝͠ͅ ̶̡̡̢̛̻͔̞̝͖͚͇̟͖͉̝̳̠͓͎͖̳̗̘͙̮̤̲͈͉̙̠̩̮̭̠͈͎̲͚̺̦̮̝͎̬̻̄͋̿̅̅̈́̒͆̆͑̑̇̋͂̾́͂͌̓̾̎̽́̈͑̓̕͘͜͠͠͠ͅĪ̸̠̝̜̤̞̥̇̊͋̃̈́͂̍̊́̉͊̐̓̅̓͊͆̓̎̂͐̋̆͛̾͂̐͛̚̚͠ ̴̢̨̘̲͚͚̣͚̭͇͇͔̭̘̝͓̲̭͔̩̭̘͚̬̼̯̹̹̞̺̬͕̺̮̱͐̍̒͊̓̓́̔̐̍̓̾̈́͊̀͊̄̎̀͗̕͜͜͝͝w̶̧̢̞͖̞̯̟͓͇͚̩͔͇̫͖̹͔̣̣̣̋̐̀̌͆̓̊̈̈́̂̽͑̀̉͌̈́̊͐̀̈́̒̈́̈́̓͛̊̔͛̌̆͂͆̄̽̃̚̕͝͠͝ͅį̵̢̛̥̥̻̯̰̙͖͖̬͖̤̮̙̆͊̓̇̔͌͗͗̽̔̏̅͂̚͝͝l̵̛͕̞͈͖̘̜͎̻̗̱̰̞͖̮̻̬̉̾̍̈́͊̎̿̍̎̐̑̃͐̄͋̈́͆͑͑̽̍̾̉̓̍̀̔͆̅͒̇́̃͋̒͊͑̕̚̕͘l̵̢̛͎̙̳̝̪͙̲̠̘̹̺̜̭̖̘̪͇̦͈̗̪͖͚̤̰̜͔̱̤̗̯̹̫͚͖̮͐̅̋͌̏̇͜ ̵̧̢̢̨̛̪̩̰̩̝͕͇͇̲͕̦̳̹̦̜̻̜̭̲̲̜͓͉͕͔͇͕̞̫̫̹͔͖̤̐̈́͒̊̐̈́͑̌̑̌̊͒͑́̿̌̍̌͌͆͊̂́̈́́͂̒̾͐̂̚̚͝͝͝͠ͅͅͅm̷̛͙͔̖̘̱̟̺͈̄͗͋̅̅̓͒̋͛́̂̿͋̃̈́͋͌͊͜͝ă̴̡͇͎̮͈͎̰̝̳͍̌̔͌̇̓̿̈̓͒̀̆̈́̚͜͝͝͝ͅk̶̛̞̦̬͍͎̲͚͈̟̳̠̺̯͓͎͈͖͇̖͈̝̲̤͔̩͉̙̫͓̫̯̒͌̒̽͋̽̄̄̇̎̐͗̕͜͝͝͝͠͠e̵̡̡̨̛͉̫̟̝̤̗̼͇̞̜̰̣̥̳̊͆̍̍̃͒̍͐̾͑͆̊̽̓̓͂̔̓̓̾̏̒̋̃̓̇̈́́̊͊͘ͅͅ ̸̧̢̢̛̛͎̦͙͓̙̼̣̻̜̭͍͇̩͔̥͓̗͓͕̻͔̩̦̮̻͓̝̫̻̫̪̗̻̰͙̙͍͔̫̺͙̒̒́̔͂̒͐̍͂̉̎̽̓̓͑̾̈̑̈́̾̄͆̽̑͆̌̉̓͐̿́̕̚͝͝s̷̡̛̯̰̖̫̙̬̘͚̯͎͍̭͔̟̻̯̝̲̘̥͍̤͖̖͎̬͓͗͑̅͊̌͒̿̆̀͋̽̏͒͌̓͌͗̿͒͒̉̑́̏͒͛͗̊̚͘͝͝͝͝ư̴̢̧̡̨̡̤̰̩͙͈̭͎̭͓͙̜̼̹̙̬̳̟̹͇̥̯͕̦̥̖͓̤̘̟̺͖͚̻̟̝͙̻͙̦̍̓̿̇̐͗̏̿̎̽̇͛̽͊́̈́̏̈́̃͗̔͒̀͒͌̓̂̈́̈́̌̿̔͋̃͛͂̓̓͛̍͗̚͘̕͜͜͝͠ͅͅr̶̢̛̛͙̦͕͔̝̣̘͍͇̥̈̾̆͒͐̍̇̋̐̓͛̂͌̓̀̅̈́͑̏͊͋̌̎͑͛͘e̸̝̔̀̀̒̐͊͌͗͊̓̆͆͘̕͝ ̶̨̧̛̫͈̰̳͔̲̥̥̙͇̼͙̹͓̜̰̙̝͚̫̠̤͎̹̗͓̠͍̪̞̤̼͉̲̳̟͎̣̣̘̻̃̂͑̈́͊̅̎͜͠ͅý̷͎̥̖͌̓̏̋͌̈́̈́̎̈́͆̐̈́̄̓̋̓̽͊̄͆̿̂͌̽̅̋̈́͌̽͘͜͝͠ơ̴̥͈̥̩̥͂̋̉͆͗̃͗̊̂̂̃̾̒̂͛̈́̅̈́̐̑̕͘͝͝͠͝͝ͅǔ̷̺͍͛̿̀̓͂͌̌͗̚͝ͅ ̸̧̢̨̢̡͓͚̥̦̭͖͓̺͈̮̯̦̣͈̺͚̞̯̣̩̰̺̹͍͖͔͓̠̲̮͎̟͇̖̪̳̻͉͐̊̀̀̒̇̐̄̎̍̃̈́͐͋̒̽̔̽̅͘̚̕͝͝ͅď̶̢̨̢̛̰̹͓̦̫̜̪̩̘̹̩̱͍̝̺̭̭̥̱̺͓̮͓͈̬̠̠͔̣͊͜ͅͅi̸̘̳͙̞̠̜̺̯͔̼̙̗̩͓̘͉͕̻̣͔̯͇̓̈́̈́̅̑̐̿͊̄̉̈̈́̓͌̏́̃̍̒̓̃̓͒͗͛̔̈͘͝͝ͅe̵̟̬̥̪͉̝͈̤͉̙̟̥̥̤̫̗̫̟̩̦͓̠̳͈͙̤̲͙̜̥̰̋͂̒̅͛́͘͝ ̷̢̡̡̛̛̬̮̖̰̗̰̻̰̦͚̹̭̳̥̳͓͍̖̥̖̜̤̯̫̟̠͕̼̖̺̄̿̎͐̋͗̉̔̾́̈̾̄͘͝͝͝w̵̪̰̳̬̖͍̻͕͇͋̄͊̈̃̿͂̇i̸̢̛͔͚̥̯̝̲̤̭̰͚͊̍̓̈́͒̽͌̋̄̆̈́͌̅͌̍̿͊̂̍̆̅̑̒̈́̒̚̚̕͝t̷̡̨̛̝̥̮̭̖͈̹̝͖̣͖͉͙̗̬̬̣͚͔̎̌͗͛̂̌̄͗̍͠h̵̨̨̛̠̭̠̰̠̠̣̰̺̯̱̮̻̙͙͙͖̗̭̫͈͙̞͍̥̮͙̦̲̱̻̮̆̌̂̽̊̀͋̀̋́̽́̈́̓̈̊̿̔̍̂͊̈́̀͛͑͆̔͒́́̇͑͘͘͘͘͝͝͠ ̶̧͍̠͍͖͋̉̍͌̌̓͆̽̌̾̔̒̀̄̈́̃̍͊̄̎̚͘͘͘͠͝y̸̧̧̢̨̨̨̧̖͔̟̞͉̟̮͉͎̱̯͎̬̫̞̰̲̠̹͖̳͖͎̰̲͕͈̼̙͈̜̾̔̂̉̿̈̕͠ͅͅͅo̷̢̢̤̘̱̖̖̠̙͓͙̳̙̹̞̯̱̿͊̎̃̍̋̿̏͂͆̎͌̑̊͗͊̽̿̌̐͋͌̚̕͜͝͝͠ͅͅų̴̛͚̖̬̳͈̳̙̗̭̼̗̠̬͇̱̬̣͈̮̘̠̟͙̱̅̓̀̔r̶̡̨̦̤͖̝͔̭̟͚̭̣͙̳̟̜͕̹̾̈́̈́̋̽̉̈́̎̊͐͐ͅͅ ̶̛̯̦͇̩̑̇͌̍̌̀̓̈́̓̌͌͒̓̿̾̐͛̈́̐̾̒́̐̓̑͌̄̚͝e̴̖̹̖͓͍̥̿͂͗̍̌̀̐̔̂͐̐̈́̈͊̌͋̄͊̌̕̚̕͘͝͝ă̶̡̛̘̞͉̝̱͕͎̺͔͎͙̩̗̠̅͋̓̂͛͌̓̈͒͊̽͂͊̂͑͌̓̌͋̌̿̈́̽̆̐͘͠͝͠͝͝ṛ̵̨̳̬̘͎͕̩̫̤̬͖̟̭̬̭̪͍̹̯̬̬̦̝̺̈̍̓́̀͑͑̐̽̿̅̆̋͆̍͆̄͐̊͜͠͠͝͝s̵̱̳̑̽̅̿̅͂̓ ̷̡̨̡̢̛̞̭̹̙̱̲͙̗̮̦͚͎̬̹͈͎͖̹̹̮͕̳̻̪͈̜͕̤̖̮̙̪̗͕̭͈̩̣̱͙̯͓͍͑̔̍̇̓̈́͂͋̎̊̍̉̍̿͑̚͝ͅc̵̢̛͎͎͔̗̭͓͇̙͉͓̒̃̾̽̒̾̽̌͂̉̿͂̎̏̍̈́͛̓́̐̎̔̅͊̏̌̌̑̓̓̿̔̓͆̏͑͂̕̕͝ͅư̵̢͙̩͗̌͌̈́͂͆͐̋̕̕t̵̹̦͋̎͊̓̍͌͆̈́͆͋̅͗̓͐͛̄̿̓̽̂͒͑͑̕͝͝͠͝͠ ̶̧̢̧̧̨̨̺̪̬̮̙̲̱̻̮̘̗̥̹̠̮͉̯̜̞̣̪̖̞͖̖̹̗͍͈̩̞̭͔̲̝̹̲͙̤͎̱͊̋͆̾̈̑͘͜ȍ̷̢̧̡̼̤͙͕͈̹̪̹̭͖̥̩͔̘̝̠̭̙̠̱̖̫̮̥͈͔̦̟̪̜̻̼̰̗̳̬̭͎͚͉̩̺̗̀̔̍̂̄͌̒͋̆͝ͅf̶̨̧̨̨̮̘̦̦̼͕̰͕̞̹̼͔̝̲̬͖̻̝̻̖̞͍̪͓̝̩͔̆̇̓͆̀̀̓̐͑̈́͊̑͝͠ͅͅf̴̡̧̢̛̛̤̱̳͍͓̳͉̠͙̺̱̰̻̞͎̥̰̟͍̭̳̱̗̗̻͍̌̓̏̃͒̏̋͒̔̎͗̏͑̑̀̆̄̓̆̎̒̽̈́̚͝͠͝͝.̴̧̢̡̨̛̛̲͓̩͓͕͉̏̂̅̑̓̀͌̂̉̇͐̌̈́̎̃̆̇̑͌̐͑̾̊͘̕͘̚͜͜͝͝͝ ̵͈̥̗̯̳̤̥͎̙̟͐̏̒̍͒̋͛͒͐̑̌̓̏̈́͑̏̃̌̒̒͐́̉͌̀̑̊͆͒̊̌̃̒̐̿̍̀̄̈́̇̕͠Į̶̧̡̛̭̖͍͖̥̫̩̰̞̗̹̩̬̻̯͖̖͔̝̝͓̦̘͔͖̮̩͙̥͈̗̫̰̱̭̇͂́́̂̓͋̐̐̓̾̏̓̒͊̈͗̇̃̋̄̎͗̚͝ ̴̡̬͈͖͈̝͍̭̉͑̈̽̋̊̋̈͂͒̕ͅw̶̢̡̧̛̛̛͍̯̻̺̲͉̱̣͙̞̘̣͚̣̝͉̙̲̮̤̖̺̗̻̺̩̻͚̃͛̽͐̃͌͒̿̽̉̉͋͋̓̇͂̆̂͛̅͆̾̀̅̑͆͒̔̂̐͌͑̇̕͠ǐ̶̢̡̢̨̧̮̣͇̣̟͎͕͖̹̰̱͙̝̝̬͖̦̤̳̤̣͍̠̠̻͖͙̮͚̐͆̎͐̉͐̚͠ͅͅl̶̨̛̫̼͕̤͚̩̣̮͖̗͚̰̯̹̠̹̭̼͍̭̼̣͇̹̾̓̑̀̿̎͐̿̑̔͌̋̉̆͆̈́̂̓̈́̔̌̀̋̋̿̾͒̾̈́͗̽̇̃̽̾́̕̕͘͠͝ͅͅl̵̨͉͚̳̮̤̣͉͎͚̣͙̘̟̞̝̘̖͓͕͓͙̻̝̖̭̱̫̭̼͎̼͙͈̦͇͇̲̮̺̮͚͒͂̓̾̃̋̈́͂̆͋́͛̆̍͛͛̉̓̓̔͋̈́̈́̆̍̐̎͗̽͂̂́̇̔͊̆̆͘͘͝͠͠ ̴̨̼͍̗̭͎̫̘͓̲̰̟̣̙͍̱̹̱̻͈̟̞̻̘̗͙̇̈́͒m̷̡̧̢̧̛̛̺̹̥̺͖̱̙̫͔̥̭̖͖̻̼͙͔̟̼̖̰̼̺̼͔̬̩͉̠̦͖̺̹̦̀͂̂̄̑̅͑͛͌̒̈́̀̃͛͊̑̌̊̇͂̔͌̊̀͌̎̑̎̔̈́͗͗͊̈̌̌̕͜͠͠͠a̵̼̭̝̬̜̔͊̃̓̇̄͗͋͂͗͋͗̏͛͌̄̐̈́̈̉̔̈́̈͑͒̒̿̊̃̓̈̀̆͘͠͠k̸̢̧̢̢̠͍̫̞̟̩͖̠̲͓̪̗̭̤̯͓̬̣̗̗͕̣͉̺͙̘̗̤̩̩̅͂͛̎̇̊̂̈͌̓͛̄͛͑̓̔͂̍̐̉̀́̈͆̂̓̇̋͆͂͗̈́̿̽̇́̄̍̑̕̕͝ͅͅè̴̢̫͑̍͌͋̽̑͋̐̓͗̍͐̓́̒̊̽̈́̓̏͐̚̕̚̚͠͝ ̷̢̧̧̧̡̡̥̪̹̦̱̣̠͖̤̭͙̘͇͓̳̮̤̤̜̩̝̦̱̳͈͍̙̻̳͉̞̹̣̀̈́̋̉̑̽̽̿̆̐͒͒͑̾̽̈̈̐̍̈́̅̈́͂̍̈́̏̚͝͝͝͝͝ș̸̨̙̫̘̞̼̔̀̒̍̇́͂̈́̀̄͑́͂̔̉̒̎̎͘u̷̡̨̢̢̧̠͔̘̗̪̰̖̗̤̻̫͎̘͈̮̼̰̰̠͔̤͖̬̯͍̬̬̘͉̱͖̗̜̙͖̝̭͚̒̇̎̅̏́̍́̑̆͛̓͐̅̋͒̾̋͐̍͒͐͌̈́̿͐̏͊̈́̉̋́̂̉͘͘͘͜͝͠͝ͅͅr̵̨̡̡̨̛̛̟͖͚̘̭̩̦̬̖̼̫͕͉̫͈͍̼̫͈̻͓͔͙̮̟͇̆̏̀̒̈́̈̒̿͗͌̾̓͂͆̓̈́͗̓̄̎̉̔̇̋̓̈́͆̐̑͌̀̓̊̎̊̓̚͘̕͜͝͝͠͝͝ͅe̴̢̧̨̨̢̡̳̗͍̗̥̟͉̭̠̩̟̥̞̙̻̪͖̩͇̮͈̝̣̤͙̻̫̞̲͓͈͕̥̟̗͔̫̖̙̎̄̅͛̎̊̌̿̑͗̐̇̋̂̄̉̋̇͂̂̿͗̅̎́̉̀̈́͝ ̸̙͇̯͈̮̱̝̱͖͓̯͉̥͕̮̳͐̑͊̂̂̿͝y̸̡̛̜͓͓̳͚̻͈͊̓̾̕͜ơ̵̧̢̨̢͍̼̲̺̗͚̻͙̮̤͇͇̦̰̰͍̤̳̲̙͈͈̣̲̤͙͇̖͖͎̰̤̭͍͖͎̗͖̙̲̜̠͗̈͗̽̾̀̏̔͊̋͑̎̀́͐̒̿̎̂̍̉̏̈́̚ͅͅů̷̧̢̧̨̢̨̙͕̥̺͎͙̺̣͖̰͓̤̯͎̞͕̬͔̞̰̺̦͉̝̭̞̘̦̺̗͇̼͔̼̣͓̖͈̂̑͛̄͂̓̓͗̑͒͌̈́̔͐̐̃̄̚͘͜ͅͅͅ ̴̧̪͓̮̻̘͈͓͉̮͍̥̪͇̉͌̈́̊d̴̡̧̢̡̛̛͖̼̞͚̬̩͉͕̬̣͇̻͇͕̹̫͚̗͉̺̯̬̗̱̈́͛͒̒̈̅̊͌̋̐̇̔̍͛̈̾͂̈̾̈́̋̌̇͂͐̊̈͌͂̿̎̒̉͋̾̕͝͠ͅį̸̪̖̙͔̜̯́̈́̋̈́̓̽͒̏͑͋̆̿̅̂͌͛̐͐̑̐̔͆̚̕͝͠͠ͅe̶̡̢̨̢̢̢̜̟̱͎̗̤͚̫͕͉̺͈̙͖̣̲̠̥̫̱̣̬̥̪̩̬̠̼̙̠͓͙̹̟̣̳͈̅̽͑̿̀̒̾̈̓̏͐̀͆̈̄̑͛̇̋͊̏̂̈̓̂̕̕͘͠͠͝͝͝ͅͅͅ ̶̛̯͉̮̮̞̩͍̜̪͍̟̠̟̅͒͒͛̔̃́̊̒̏̕͠͝͝͝w̸̢̡̛̺͇̹̜͎̯̦̹̣͈̻̯͓͉͖̦͚͕̤̥͚̲̱̖̝̳̙̱͓̩͎̻͕̝͔͎̄̋̒͗͐͊̀̆̍̽̂͌͗̓̈́͆̔̄͗̓̌̏̔̑̄̅̾͊̏͗͆̓͑͋̀͗̈̚͘͜͠͝͝͝͝͝͝ͅĩ̴̢̧̮̯̫͇̹͈̩̘͚̫̯͍͎̜̙̜̪͎̠̗͔̮̤̝͓͕̦͙̘̳̻̯̝̬̽͗͋͌̈́̒͌̅̈́͊͛̔͗̽̔͂̋̎̈͌̌̓̔̕͘̚͜͝ṱ̸̨̡̭̤̱̘̝̪̼̬͈͖̺͖̣͖̘̻͚̤̱̠͓̹̞͐̔͗̊̔̈́͌̈́̒̑̾͑̃̾͒͋̇̈́̒͊̒̒̃̇̊̑̎̅̃͒̄̍̒̿͊̓̆͘̕̚͝͠h̷̨̨̡̡̢̼̜̪͈̭̭̺̘͓͙̯̳͖̲̥̺̭͓̪͔̳̰̤͈̗̙͈͖͎̦̹̦̰̹̻͚̱̞͍̘̥̹̅͋̾̇͑͆͌͗̋͆́ͅ ̵̢̢̨̧̢̛̻̣̜͎̻̜̪̬͈̬̝̭̪̯͈͖͚͙̺͔̳͚́̈́͑̈́̓̂͐̈̏̋̽̀̽̐͑̃͒̐͌̃̈́̍̈́́͗̊͑͛̕͘͘͜y̷̡̨̟͔̞͍̲̼̩̞̖̻̳̺̣̲̠̦̳̖͉̬͚̞̤̑̈̏̍̐͗̕̕ǫ̴̨̡̨̢̹̗̳̗̰̪͍̙̣̭̗̜͚̲͂̾̈́̔͘͜͜͝͝u̵̡̨̨̻̦̮̺̗̹̻̪̣̤͈̳͈̗̰̫̖̱̖̠̬̥̓̈́͌̂͛͒̏͋̂̓͊̒̾̓̅͗̈̾̊̂̕͝͝r̷̢̻̜̟͕̥̘̯̹̙̫͎̻̖̗̱̤̝̳̤͉̓ ̶̨͓̟͉̭͉͓̻̱̙̪̦̜̭̯̥̳͈͉̥̹͈̜̩̥̯̙͍̲̺͍͉̌̈́̓̉̓̑̉͆̓̾̋͂̈́͛̏̌̀̓̕̕ͅt̴̡̡͎͖͉͙̦̱̱͙̣͙̼̥̲͓̤̩̪̹̳͉̩͕͍̝̾͊̓̒̍ǫ̷̛̩̞̭͔͈̦̥̱̬̝͖̝̦̝̼̈́̀̄̏̂̈́͛͋͊́̄͊̊̑̿̐͌̓̓́̆̎͜n̵̡̳̙̩̗͉̻͋̔̄͑̔̈́̉̈́͛̈́̆̐͂̈́͒̀̋͘͜͝ģ̵̛̙̘̯̜̞̟͈̮̫̤͙͕̥̙̯̥͈̺̅̏́͗̒́̈́̾̇̄̎̍̈̋͘͝ṵ̵̡̨͇̪̭͈̣̗̥̬̩̮͖̥̱̭̮͈̻͉͚͇̠̮̙̝͖̹̞̭̬̹̯̟̯̬̭̬̺̮̻̙̺̺̉̒̆̍͂͑̈́͒̅͊͑̽̅̔̈̊̏̄͂̇̅͂́̈́̈́̈́̋̋̅̐͋̈́̇̈́͊̕̚ĕ̴̛̖̫͕͙̙́̓͗͑̓̉̆͋͐̾́̃̔̂̄̾̓͌͌̈́̃̎̿̊̋̿̚ ̸̧̧̧̡̞̼̠͕̻͍̩̹̰͓͖̟͖̙̰̩̞̜̥̤̲͚̥̼͙͈̘̳̖̥̩̎̉̈́̑̿̃̄̌̐̽̔̍̏͛̈́͑͂̚̚͝͝͠ͅr̶̢̛̞̦̤̣̲̲̖̬͉͚͇̯͔̰̯̱̣̬̞͇̖̘̖̙̱̻̻̗̙͉̣̲̘̗͎̻͍̽̃̅̇͆̓͛͆̉͗̍͗͂͊̿͋̉̐͐͑̈͋̈́̈́̾̇̊̏̄̽̍͘͝͝ͅí̴̢̨̧̧̨̧̯͖̳̙̹̞̳̲͖̻̝̠̙̬͇͙̦̱̹̭͓͚̩͚̖͙̟̠̤̣͊̇̇̽́͊̎̈́̌͊̾̋̑̈́͑̅͋͋̇́̈̅̈́͌͐̾͘͝͝͝͠ͅp̴̨̧̡̡̧̻̯̻̤̬̤̼̙͚̥̮̺̤̰͎̹͓̖̼̦͉̞̤̱͔̳͍͈͕̞̻̰̗̍͜͝͝͠p̸̡̧̛̭̲͔̠̖̥̥̣͔̹̼̗̫̮͓͇͚͕̬̪̯̥̼̩̯̦̳͔͒̈̏̽̓́͋͆͋̀̑̚̚͘͝ͅę̵̧̧̦̣̙̦͓̞͔̬̩̻̖̘̹̤̠̗̰̹̗̳̟͕͉̳̥̯̟͎̳̗͍̱̼̄́̌̓͂̈́̈́͌̃͌̆͂̈́̆̃̑̑̔͑̄̓͗̈́̋̇̾͊̍͌͊̊͗̂̈́̌̚̚͝͠͝͠͠͠d̵̛̛̛̼͂̅̏͊̑́̃͊̓̑̊̒̓̿̔͊͂̔̀͋͐̈́̐̃̀͊̌͛̚̚̚̕̚͝͝͠ ̴̢̪͓̼̻̫̅͐̆̊̊͂͊̆͋̃̕͝ǫ̶̨̨̡̡̪̖̭̫͍̠͔͇͎̜̦̯͖͚͕̲̝̻̤̻͍̱͍̹̉̍̂̍̈͊͗̆͌̓̽̓́̑͐͘̚̚͝͝ͅư̷̧̧͚͍̟̮̱̮̥̱͖͇͎̙̥̙̪̹̙̩͈͚̥̊́̃͒̄̿̃̾̋̌̂̔̆̈́̋̒͆̎͒̽̃̍̉̑̈́̅͊̃̅̑̐͂̂͆̌̔͒͘͜͠͠͠͝ṱ̸̨̧̡̡̰̞̗̟͙͎̘̤̙̹̣̪͖͎̟̼͉̦̱̤͈͎͙͎͖͕̗̼̳̭͚̱̭̟̓͐̈́͗̎̀̋͜ͅ.̵̨̮̖̲̤̪͖̲̞̦̪͎̙̌͌̈̈́͛͋̓̐̽̈́̉̀͛̋̄͌͂̌̃̈́̽̍̓̈́̆̄́̚̕͘͝ ̸̧̢̭̗͍̠̪͈̦̹͖͈͉͕̝͇̺̦͙̭͕͚̪̲̝̖͕͖̠̥̘̬̹̦̹̻̏̉͜͜ͅỈ̵̱̼͍̰̫̠͖͍̱̻̱̦̹̩̖͍̜̯̖̙͎̳̣͙͙̣̱̞͉̭̫̺͈̘͖̋̉̓̐̽̋͌͗̑̚͘͜͜͜͝ͅͅ ̴̨̢̡̢̢͓̳̙̤̞̜̤̯͙̼̪̠̪̰̱͍͔̞̳̳͎̠̞̳͈͔̦̖̖̬͍͕͈̱̘̌͒̔̋̉̃̌̈́̒͊̈̿̇͋͘͜͠ẁ̵̡̧͈̤̩̭̥͕̖̟̪͍̝̳̗͇̦̭̹̭̺̤̩̟̬͉͈̦̞͕͚̯̒̉̄͐͊̌̔̏̚̚͜͜͝͝͝͠͝i̴̩͙̖̺̜̤͇̱̬̬͇̞̲̪̠̰̺̤̻̠̭̗͇͌̌̊̈́̀͛̎̃͆͗͛̐̆͒̑̽͂̔̿͑͐̚̚͘͜͠͠͝ͅͅl̸̨̧̧̧̢̢̩̰̯̯̥͍̝̘̬͔̲̱̙̞̗̟̟̙͓̻̼̫̤̱̥̿̍̃̓̏̇̄̓̿̀̍̓̐͋̈͒͆͂̃͊̅͌͋͂̏͛̀͂̅͗͗̾̓̓͂͌̚̚̕̕͠ͅl̶̨̡̛̫͚̲̥̯̹͓̟̯̟̤͔͔̰̬̤͈͕̝̜̖̓̉̎̈́̊͛̈́̋̿́̍̈́͐̿͑̇̇̈́̍̄͊̓̌̏̎̽̊͂̈̕̚͝͝͠͠ ̷̨̧̯͉̯̼̥̞̩̤̳͙̹̞̼͕̰̦͉̘͕͇͔̩̲͙̱͙̤̺̞͚́͂̑̇̀̏̆͊̌̐̅̋̐͗̊͑͗͌̓͋̈́͋͊͌̾͂̋̄̽͘͜͜͠͠m̷̨̡̛̠͇̣̟̱̠̮̗̣̦̟͔͉͍̥̘̤̬̜̦͍͇͇͈̟̙̠̫̰̼̟̹̱͇̼͖̅̃̄̈́͂͐͜ͅͅã̵̡̨̱̣̣̱̳̻̮̝̘͙̫̪̖̞͇̺͕͎̯̺̙̞͚̜̪̗̺̱͜͝k̵̘̳͎͖̻̳͕̺̱͕͈͔͎̯̪͆̒͆̽̌̉̆͊̾͐̐͌͜ḛ̸̢̡̛̥͍͇̳̖͖̪̻̫̮͇͎͚̹̞̝̥̠̮̜͕̣̮̳̤͖͔̩̻̦͓̭̯̞̝̩̯͔̙͕̥̈́͋͛̾̔̌͗̍͑̍̊̄̍͐̂̀̓̋̓͑̔̀͛̆̄̂͌͐̍̈́̍̍͆̃̌͊͒̏͌̌̽̚͜͜͠ ̶̧̡̨̱̣̜̗̖̯̰̖͚͕̟̙̲̹͔͍͒̎̓̾̍̽͆͊̄̏̑͐̃͐̇̀́̒̒̏̉̊̉̈́̑̏̿̉̉̌̃̈̃̀͗̉̚͘̕͜͝͠͠͝s̶̨̤̤̖͍̣̥̺̐͊͒͐̍ų̷͎̬̣̘̖̘̬̩̥͕͔̒͗̀̀̂͆͊̓́̓̌̕͠ṙ̵̢̧̢̧̨̡̛̳͖̼͓̯̳͉̞̮͙̹̜̹͈̥͉̬̼̲̦͕̟̖̠̳̟̻̖͚̯͂̐̎̀̕̕͜͝ͅͅͅe̷̢̛̛͕̪̳̘̼̯̣̼̦̮͚͐̐̈́̑̾̄͆͋͛́̊̊͌͆̐̑̌̆̈́̎̄̒͐̓̽̔̑̆́͒̎͋͘̕͘̚̚̕͝͝͠ ̵̢̥͎̣̹̤͎̦̫̟̰͚̰̩̱̰͓͖̩̓͐̔͑̎̄̈̀͐̍̈́̾̐̂̔͛̓̾͗͊̿̑̾̈́̅͆̄͗̽̋̊̊̿̎̈́̚̕̚͝͝ͅͅy̵̢̢̡̧̛̛̛͚̣̼̤̬̗̟͎͂͆̿͊̀͛͋̌̈́̀͗͒͂̔͑̔͒̈́̔͛̑͛̾̂̃̌͌̿̊͋̽̐̀̽̕̚͘͝͝ͅo̵̧̜̰̖͕̓͐̔̔̈́̒͊̃͜ủ̵̢̧͕̫̙̹̞̖̯̈̇̓͑͋̍͌͊͌̆͂̄͑̎̀͌͗̾̇͊̐͆͌͂͒̅͋̈́̄̕͠͝ͅ ̷̢̧͚͔͉̙̦̤̯͔̫͙̺̻̦̲͚͓̗̼͓̯̞͓̙͉͎͍̫͙̩̰̱̺̫͎̏̾̍̈̈́͐͊͜ͅͅͅͅd̶̢̨̢̢̡͔̱̖͚̖͇͓͎͎̟͙̝̦̼͚̮͙͙̼̟̗͙̙̺̝̞̯̹̞̘͉͖̜̙̮͔͕̱̐̌̔̓͐̈̒͒͜͠͠į̸̘̱̘͎̪̹̜͈͚̖̰̜̼̘͇̈́̅̀͆̅̊̈̆͋͊̅̑̓̊̏̏̈́̎̊̚̕͝͝͝ȩ̷̛̹̜̻̺̙͇̙̖͔̝̲̂͋̃̿͐̈͊͂̂̆̃̄̃͑̅̅̃̒̂̑̓̆̌̏͋͊̑̈́̆͋̄̌̇͐̕̚̚͘͝͠͝͝͝ ̴̡̩̝̣͔̻̫̜̤̤̹̮̠̩͖͇̠̰̦̘͈̩̬̦͍̺̞̰͉̜̲̭̞̯̥̩͚̓̂̑̉̉̌̊͝ͅͅẘ̵̢̢̢̮̰̥͓̹͓̝̳̲̝̭̦̖̞̰̠̪̰̭̹͓͚͚͔̲̜̮̳̤͕̺͖̼̼̰͇͚͇̮̠̩͓̯͒̽̄͊́͛̍̎̔͂̏̽̅͋̑̀̾̽͗͊͗̄̌̓̅͌͊̔̕͘̕͜͝͠͠͝͠ͅi̴̡̛̘͕̟͉̻̘̪̲̫̟̪̬̱̮̖̖̦̜̤̯̫̰̅̾̈͒̀̆͆͑̿̽̽͐͛̈́̀̓̆̉̕͜͜͝͠͝͝ͅt̷̡̛̹̼͓̫̝̾̂͂͊͐̈́̀̒͒̾̎͐͂̎́́̆̾̿̎̄̂̄̑̚̚͝͝͠h̷̡̛̼̪̞͈̺̣̭̦̝̫̩̺̙̩̩̟͉̰̖͉̳͉͓̜͉̝̖̫̤̺̄̋͑̀ͅ ̵̣̜̭̪̝͖͈͖̼̈́̐͂̎́y̵̫̝̬͍̬͕̟̠͙̤̣̹̙̗̘͎̩͕̘͛̃͛͐̈̓͒̿̔̆͋̈̈̏̾̋͂͗́͛̂̄̄͒̍̆̃͆͗͘͘̕͝͠͝͝͠͝ǫ̷̛̛̣̮̣͖͉̳̥̟͔̖͇͖̲͎̜̩̥̥͉̜͍̜͕̭̗̹̅̓̿̈́̏̋͑͊̓̀͛̓͒͗̐̏̾̑̆͒̌͆̚͘͘͘͜͝͝͝͠ͅͅu̷̧̡̡̧̡̨͉̬͕̞̫͈͖̮̜̣̙̙̩̾̈́̀͒͋̊̀̈́͌̿̉͑̍͗̆̓̄̍͋͐̈́͘͘͠ŗ̷̛͈̙͕̣̤̜̖͍͙̬̦̥͈̣̟͚̠̳͚̲̫̹̜̮̓̌̄̅͐̔̽̉̀̎͛̾̆̓̒̆͂̔̋́̓̄͗̽̄͐̏̋̔͐̎̎̉͘̚͘͜͝͝͠͝͝͠͠ ̶̨̡̢̛͉̙̼͙̹͎͍͉͈͖̹̰̦͍̭̬̪͈͙̹̘̰̠̤̦͕̯͕̖̺̯̲̰̙̬̝̙̝̦̜̒̍̊͐̀̃̍̒̇̈̍͐͋̈́͑̿̀̄̓͛̌̅͛̄̍̀̒͛̍̽͛̾̕̚͘͝͝ĕ̸̡̨̤̱̼̜̖̤͉͇̯̝̻̮͚͙͇͍̪̃̊̓̄̓̂͐̚͜͠ͅy̶̢̨̧̯͎͍͔̙̻̳̞̬͉̣̲̮̯̙̤̤̲͓̻͙̹͕̦̣͚͎̳̟̾̈́̌́̈́̊̽̏̆͒͌̊̇̾̉͋͑̽͐̆̋̑̈̓͂͋̕̚͜͠͠ẻ̴̡̼̙̤̎̽͆͑̇̏͂̽̈́̋̊̋͊̇͂̊̾̋̒̃̅͒̿͌͆̈́͗̾̕͝s̶̢̢̢̢̧̡̨͖̻̲̱̠͉̫̙̦̺̲͙̞̭͔̝̪͓͇̹͖͓̜̠̗̥̺͍̬̺͇̑̊̏͊̊̅͛̓́̄͆͑̔̄̓͗̋̓͛̽͋͆͊̆̚͝͝͠͠͠͠ͅ ̸̨̧͎̰͍̺̻̯͉̞̱̩̥͓̣̯̲͉̺̬̖͇̱̝̙͌͝͝g̴̡̛̼̖̭͔̺̼̙͉͔̬̙̓͂́̂̆̇̏̈́̇͊̒̓̇͗̌͑̍͋̒̀̌́̌̊͑̆͐͂̈́̽͛̚̚͘͝͝õ̶̡̾̉̔͂̔̏̔̑̍͐͑̃̄̉́̈̑̈̃͛̌̊̿́͌̕͝͠͠͝ư̶̧̨̡͎͉̳̜͙͉̹̯̻̩̹̣͖̱͔̱͇̙̙͙̮̹̞̤̮̞͉̔̋̄̄̐̚͜g̸̨̡̢̡̧̛̘̪̥̜̥͍̬͙̝̲̺̖̞͕̮͚͉͖̺̘̣̺̻̩̋̈́̋̄̽́͌͐̅̐̆͒́̅͋̐̚͜͝ͅȩ̸̢̧̨̛͕̖͉̣̗̝̘̘͍̖̲̩̳̬̹̣̥͔̥̗̭͍̤͍͎̼͓̀̿̐̊̄́̈́͂̆̓͌͊̅̑͊̚͜͜͜͠͠ͅd̸̬̦̟͖̪͕͎͓͈̯̀̉̏͆̈́̔̑͂͆͗̓͌͝ ̷̢̢̢̡͔̯̻̹̲̬̲̩̗̯̩͍͍̦͚̰̪̝̹̦̦̫͓͓̫͔̫̤̘̺̦̱̥̠̥̺̝͎̟̘̲͕̓̈́̒̌͆̈͌̓̂̇͗́̍̊̌̄̐͂̂̃̋̐͛̈́͜͠ö̶̢̨̨͎̭̞̥͙̱̬́͛̂̒́̂̂̽̌̽̿̈́̐͒̋̎̋͒̂͒̈́͑͂̑̿̈́͊͂̌̕͘̚͜͝͝͠ų̶̧̨̛̛͙̭̠͍̮̹̲͍̜̭̰̟̺͚̺̣̦̥̠̮͔͕̼̗͉̠͔̘̥̺̥͕͉͓̞̈́̓̍̈́̍͌̆͒̄̊̉̈́͛̅̊͐̆͑̑̎̉͐́̐̌̑̇͂͛̐̕̕͘͜͝ͅͅt̴̨̡̡̝͕̜̗͉͇̪̹͚̬̱͓̮͕̺̹̥̳͓͎̯͎̦̘̄̇̉̆̕͜͜͠ͅ.̷̱̠̪͙̻̤͎̠̻̞̻͖͙̠͈̪̳̣̫̮̖̟̙̼͎̯̦̪͉̪͎̰̩̻̱͇̫͔͂͂͆͛̌̈́̀͛̾͗̈́̈́͊͑̏͆̐̿͂͌̿͑͜͜͝͝ͅͅͅ ̷̛̗͍̠̰͕̇͛̂̒̇̿͛̉̈̌̓̓̿̌̀̇̾͋͐͘̚̕͜͝Ḩ̵̨̢̧̡̨̬̻̺̯̻̠̙͉͕̫̝͕̺̖̝͙̯̺͙͙̞̺̜̱̿͒̏̏̇̔̃̀̏͌͆͒̄̋̆͛͒̆͌͂͊̌̈́͒̊̽̈́̋͆̋̐̏̈̔͊̋̅̿̐́̇͂̕͝͝ę̷̨̩͇̩̫͈͓̠̱̭̗͚̪͇̩̘̰͙͇͙̱͚͇͙̘̜̼̭̤͚̗͚͇͕͙̩̮̝̫̜̅͊͊̄͂̃̌̇̓̄̋͑̌̐̅̆͌̒̂̀̆̄̎͐͐͗͋͒̅͗͒̒̔̂̕̕͝͝͠͠͝ͅľ̸̝̦͂͊̋̎̽̈̐͗̌͒̆͋͋͗̈́̇̈́̓́̍́̚̚͝͝͝l̵̢̧̢̢̡̢̡̡̲̣͈̮͖͖̯͔̹̭͖̹̻͕̮̖̭͕͇͖̮͇͇̻̟̣̳̣͈̰̝͚̂̓̒͒̈́̓̾̄͑͐́̽̌̚͜ơ̷̧̰̠̞̯̭̬͔̞̳͇̝̥̗͖̰̻̙͕̻̖̤͍̩̳̘̦̟̗̫̞̓̓͗̓̑͋̐̇̔̐͊̋̾̏͛̓͊̐̄̓̒̓͊̕̕̚͠͠͠͝͝ͅ?̸̧̨̡̤͕̟̰̟̗̤̞͈͈͔͔͈͔̮̪̯̜̱̞͕͙̲̖͈͖̬͉̮̘͕̎̍̇͛͗̓͆́͗͊̎͊̽̋̐̒͂̇̋͂͗͌̀̽̾̓̑̿̓̈̂̋̀́̏̆̚̕͜͜͠͝͝ ̴̨̧̡̛̛͔̲̤͎̖̟̱̭̯̯͎̭̤̳̗̲̣̺͇̌̉̿͊̑̿̐̅̑̀͌̔͛͒̃̈́͐͗͘͘͠Ḩ̶̨͔̜̗̪̲̖͍̜̟̬̮͔͇̦͍̬̘̬̮͍͕̳̼̗̺̮̖̲͖͙̹͖̜̈́̈̑̍̇̔̍͋̋ͅe̵̢̧̥̥̣̮̼̙̤̣͕̖͙̝̪̻̭̟̲͔͉̯̲͔̱͉̓͋̈́̉̈́͊͐͗̆͛͛́̏͑́͗͒̎̉͋̂́̒͘͝͠͠ľ̶̡̛̩̼͓̇͛̓̎̽̓̅̆̎͋̇͗͑̅̈̈́̋͊͐̅̽́̑͂͛͒͒͛̊̍̒̏̓̊̂͘͘̕͝͝͠͝͠l̸̨̧̡̩̖͇͓̜͎̺͕̱͚͔̬̹̫͙͙̟̖̘̱̩̘͇̙͍̙͐̒͂̃̓̈́͐̓̉̔̔̇̔̃̿̂͒̃͐̀̔̆́́̋͗̾̿̔͘͘͜͝͝͝͠͠͝ͅǫ̸̨̨̛̛͍̣͚̦̬̺͎͖͓̫͖̺̜̻̩̭̹̹̞̹͈̖̮͓͕͎̦̩̣̞͍̮̞͈̰̜̐̈̋͋́̈́͂̈̾̃̅͗͗͑̓̈̆̿̋̓̂̇̍̈̕͠͝͠͝?̵̭̙͍̩͇̠̜͓̲̫͕̰̫͖͙̳̖̘̄͌̈́̈́͑̑̿̌̅͛͌̔͊̚̚͜͠ͅ ̸̧̢̢͚̰̭͙̲̺͓͙̩̺̬̞̖̺̹̞̙͍͙̰̩̘͔͚̤͉̩̝̣͎̖̥̰͚̉̈̋̓͗̑̉̉̈́̇̄̅̀̑̈̔̐̿̍͌̀̓̾̏̎̂͐̈́͋̀̾̈̊̈́̓͋͘͘̕̕͠Ḫ̶̨̨̧̢͈̦̻͓̬͙͚͖͓̝̱͇̣̬̖͇̖̟͓̻̲͛̀̄e̷̢̨̢̡̨̧͕̜͚͉͎͚̙̞̙͕̰̪̯̻̜̖͉̙̥̲̺̹̥̬̅̒̿̏̋̏̐̕͜͜͜l̸̡̢̢̨̡͍͍̯̞̩͕͎͉̫̯̤̼̪̖̳̘̹̘͚̞̬̈́̐͋̃̌͑̕͝ͅl̴̨̛̛̦͔̲͇̜͙͌͑͒̀̾̾͆̈́̌̎̓̒̽͗̄͆͊̉͆̇̆̔̾̽̊̍̚̚̚̕͝ǫ̵̡̧̩̣̯̟͇̤̳̣͈̹̗͉͕̩̎̈́̂̇̑̀̽͆͂̓͗̈̿̍͗̌̑̓̏̂͐̐̚͘̕̕͝?̵̡̧̢̧̧̛̖̻̱͓̣̼̯̥̩̺̯͓͚̤̯̫̤̗͎͚̰̫̩̰̟̰̝̖͓̻̘̩̟̲̳̹̓́͂͛̃͐͋̾͐̅̽̏͑͂̈́̚̕͜͜ͅͅ ̵̻̣̮̭͉͔̓͋̾͌͑͊̑̇̚H̵̢̨͇̣͚̭̬͓͈̍̒͋͒̃͒̏̓ͅȩ̵̨̡̢̢̡̭̬͈̭͔̜̬̜̖͈͖͎͎̬̬̮͖̜̼̜͓̣̲̩̯̞̹̝̣̗̭̱̪͈͚͇͗̈̍͊̀̐͗̇̽̉̑̏̋͒̏̓̏͆̆̋̉̀͌̐̒̀̂̆̅͜͝͝ͅͅl̴̨̡̧̨̡̢̤̼̜͇̲͈̩̪͕̖̠̥͍̹̺̥͖̪̣͈̪̲̤̠̙̠̠̺͈̮̣̗̘̖͉̲͕̂̉̐͐͐͆̄̌͋͊̑͌̀̾̃̉̉̿͐̑͋̏͌̄̐̍͗͛̒́̆̄͗̃͑̏͋̒͜͜͜͝͝͝͝ͅͅḽ̵̨̢̡̡̛̻͈̻̮͖̟̪̜͉̠̥̤͚͌̌̀̃̄̓͒̔̑̈́̾̃̉͊͋̋͑̎͆̂͋̎ǫ̷̨̡̼̩̟̬̰͓̠͇̬̗̩̩̜̦̼̟̗̜̱̗̣͕̖̬̹̲̰̣̜̈́̂̎̿̇͌̽̇̈́̎̾͋̋̉̉̆͒̊̍̿͐̏̎͛̀̀͌̈̾̒̚̕͘̕͜͝ͅͅ?̸͔͓̺͓̩̩̻͔̪̜̗̠͙̬͖͉̮̙̪͈̤̤̤̈́̽̃ ̴̢̨̧̢̜̠̰̩͖̻̮̟͙͈̳͍͙̲̦̤̭̹̫̜͓̠̟̱̰̝̩̖̹͉̗̱̲̦̹̥̩̮̬̫̱͈̱̯̽͛̓̄̿̎̀͑̓̈̒͂͛̍̿͆̂͌̌̒̈́̃́͆̚̕̚̚͠Ć̷̛͉͇͚̱̫̎̆̑͌͛̐̋͆̃́̐̂͌̐̒̾̄͋̑͐̓̈́̃͌̎̀̽͗͘̕͘̚͘͠͠r̴̛̯̮̫̳̳̱̲̱̜͚̺͙̟̉̓̒̓͌̏̏͛͐̂̽̓̊̆͠͝͝y̵̢̟͙̞̯͉̖̝̣̦̯̩̬͕͕͂̄̈́͛̆̉͋̊̎̈͛̅͊̑́̑̂͗͂̽̾̉̆̈́̀͆̀̓́̆̒̒̕͘͝͝͝͝͝ͅ ̶̢̢͕͖͕̙̙͙̜̜̝̯̤͚͚̖͉̐̏̋̽̿̉́͒́̊̍͐̐̕͜͝f̸̛̛̬̣͇̏̄̋̍͂̂̾̾̅͋̐̐͌̐͗͆̒͗̋̓̔̇̑̽́̃͊̌̿͂̈͘͘͝͝͝͠ö̷̥͎̞̬͓́ṟ̷̜͚̜̜͉͇̦̈́̆̌̿̅̾͛̽͌͘̚ ̶͉̘͈͙̈͆́̆̋̊̏͂͊̓̊̒̄̏̃̌̒͋̕͘m̵̡̬͕̺͓̲̫̼̺͓͋͋͑̇̇͊̀̚e̵̬̗̻͗ ̸̧̥̥͙̻͕̖̺͉͔͚̥̥̮̻̘͙̹̖͖͎͓̩̲̼͎͇̜̟̦͕̅̎́̒͘͜͜͝m̵̡̧̢̢̨̹̼̮̣̫̰̰͉̰̺̪͎̳͛͜ỹ̸̢̧̡̧̡̛̝̠̗͈̗̭͖͉̘̫̘̝͈͇͓͕̺̞͉̳̲̲̳͍̗̮̗̪̲̟͓̤̼̩̣̫͈͌̏̃̏̓̀͆̅̋̔̎̋̇̔̌̆̆̎̉̃̅͑̓̈͛̒͋̿̄̿̐̈͒͛́̚͘̕̚͜͠͠͝͝ͅ ̴̧̢͈̤̰͕̲̰͊̓̀̓̆̒̽̍̿̑̀̈́͌͒̉̊̊̍̇͑̕͘͘͝͠d̷̨̨͇̹̻̺̟̭̥̹̼͉̳̠̆̽̿̌̐̔̀̎̈́́̾̏̊̉̌̑̕͠͝͠ä̷̡̨̧̛̩͍͇̜̺͎̥̫̯̹̦͎̳͔̖̭̹̬̬̪͓̝̬̘͕̮̮̮́̑͋̅̕͜r̵͍͇͗̐̐̑̂͗͌͌͋̃͒͌͂̀̀̾̾͗͆̽͐̂͐̄͂̈́͋̔̊̇̏̈͐͑̆͒̏̚̚̚͜͝͝͝͠l̷͎̯͓͔̿̋̌̓̓̍̈́̈̐̑͗͑̆̈͂̃͌̉̇̕̚͘͠͝ͅi̴̛̛̳̙̗͔̪͖̯̩̻͕̙̣̟͇͊̐̎̏̐͗̈̌͋̆͗̓̋̆̉̎̈͑͗̋͐̇̋̎͠͝ṋ̷̨̧̡̡̨̨̛̞͈͉͈̪̮̭̩̖̥̟̰̜̯̳̦̦̘̖͇͎̯̣̮̟͙̲̉̈́̃̍̅̅̃͑̋̅̌͗̌́͋́͗̌͛͋̐̌͋̈́͆̒̓͊̊̈́̕̕͠ḡ̴̱̻̣̙̞̙͕̻͈̝̖̩̼̥̞͔̗͔͉̝̹̩͚͙̥̰̤̥̜͕̬̞̦̝̹̳̪̞͔̰͇̲̻̯͙̅͑͛͛̄̓̔͛̆̒͌͗̂̀̽͛̐̐͆̊̇͆̔̿̄͛͘̚͠.̸̧̛̼̤͕͈̲̮͈̮͎̳͇̈́̄̾̽̎̈́̆͂̄̎̅̂͛͊̈̈́͑͛̏͘͝͠ͅ ̸̧̡̡̛̛̯̤̼̺̭̩̼̣̭͕͉̰̺̜͓̙̜̩̻̣͙̙̳͇͓̩̫̭̥̻̂̆͊̊̈́̈́̐͒̂̐̈́͒́̅̿͊̃̈́͒̑̏̌̎̇́͐͛͘͘̚͜͝ͅŅ̵̨̡̨̢̨̢̛̳̩̬͈͇͉̠͈͕̬̬̖̞̝͚͓̮̠̦̜͕̲̻̤͍͍̩̙̙͑̄̈̒͂̒̒͋̄̽͆̓̏̌̿̀͗̊̕̚̚͝ͅó̶̡̢̨̧̡͇̰͓̩̦͖̻̖͕̻͙͔͖̜͇̫̣̱͍̤͙̻̗̝̞̙̝͉̳̘͖̼͖̀̈̃̎̆̈͂̎̊̐͆̅͐̈́̐͒̒̌̈͒̄͗̽́̇͂́̄̈̈̇̊͊͂̌̿̈́̚͘̕͜͜͝͠͝͝ͅw̶̡̢̨̻̩̝͈̟͓͉͖̦̻̠̲̱̫͓͖̬̯̠̗̗̮͔̖͛̐̋̐̍͛̽̾̈́̐́̔̐̾̽͗́̊̃̾̋̇̈̈́̏͑͒̇̃͒̉͑̏̆̅̚̚̕͝͝͠͝͠ ̷̡̨̢̘̠̭̖͙̟͔̭̥͔͓̳͙̜͓̠̺̩͎̱̞̞̭̙̥̘̈́̆̾̎̿̈́̐̽̽̾͒̅̊͋̇̂͜͠͝t̸̢̡̨̧̢̪̯̥̙̥͕͕̤̗̠̗̭̫̱̩̤̙̠̲̭̱̳̭̫̥̹̪̣̩̯̹̖̟͐̏̅̋̄̅̌̏̈́̋̈́̈́̽̈͛̉̋͑̆̎̃̄͛̈͆̿̏͗̈́͘̕͠͝ę̵̨͈̗̘̘͙͔̗͚̣̫̦̥̬̪̠̝̣̖͉̥̲̱̮͓̘̹̖̺̰̠̟͙̞͉̭̦̭̦̿̓͂̀͂̌̅̐̊̒ͅļ̵̢̡̩̦̲̥̟̳͍̱͍̠̱̠̪̠̪͕̖̘̠̗̟͑̊̽̃͋̐́͑̄̽͌̽̈́̅͋̇̌͌͛̿̑̋̕̕͠͝l̴̲͖͕̲̈͊̂̆̿̅̄̋̔͆̅̽̈́̈́͂̐̽͐̋̌̄̍̂̍̉̏͒̾̅̀͊͌̓̐͑̑̓̈̕͘̚̚̚͝ ̶̧̧̢̛̛̻̥͈̞͖̗͈̙͓̻̪͉͔̥̞̙͔̲͕͖̰̪̞͓͉̞͚̦͙̪̾̓̏̒̾͛͛͛͊͆̂͂̍̑̋͌̑̃̉͂̽̾̎̒̈́̈́̾̾̎̇͆̓͌̎̔͗͘͘͜͝͝͝͝͝ͅm̴̞̬̬͎̟̟̺͎͎͍̮̑͂̒̈̏͛̄̽̈́̿͑͐̂̒̑̇̈́̅̈́͌͌̌̈́̑̃̈́͘͘͝͠ę̶̨̢̢̛͍̣͇̞̥̰̼͈͖͔̤̝̱̖̝̗͕̘̤̩̼͍͙̯͖̖͍̯̬̩͍͛͐̊̒͐̈́͗̿͗̒̉̔̍͛̽̽͗̓͗̓̚̚͘ ̵͖̜̥͈̺̙̜̘̱͈͈͖̻͋̆̽̈́̈͋̄̎̾ý̴̢̡̡̛̛͙͍̤͉̠̳͕̹̩̫̜̮̰͖̼̫̳̰͍͍̣̞͖͈͙̜͇̼̊̓͂̎͊́͌̓̌̂̔͒̅̃̈́̃͘͜͝͠͠ǫ̶̡̢̧̨̗̳̺̝͙̲̝͕̼͖̝̙̫̞̬̦̳̯̩͕̩̗̘͕͕͉͚͚̪̺̭̞̼͓̰͇͕̭͉͊̋̓̈́͗̿̍̓̃̏̃̑̅̾̀͂͑͛͋̔̅̍͂̈̀̎͋͋̿͛͒̎͠ͅͅͅử̸̧̨̧̛̰͎̯̹̯̘͈̙̳̬̗̰̻̱̜̣̮̞͖̼͚̟̳̻̮̤͖̻͚̙͉̻̘̬̦͎̪͚͖̪͇̠̓̔̒͑̀͛̌͆̍̆̾̒͘͜͜͜͝͝͠ ̸̡̧̡̨̡̡̛̛̗̬͕̬̪̜̣̦̪̺̯̙͚͉͎̦̬͙͔̗̣̬̗̗̦̗͙̫̓̓̓̒̽̓͑̽̉̈̊̿͑̑͌̆̆̇͊̃̈̒́͗̌̂̋̌̒͒̾̽̓͊͘̚̚͜͝͠͝l̶̨̞̠̗̲̥͓̟̲̲̭͎͉͚̗̾̓͑̔͌̓̃̋̒͆̒͐́̐̂̂͐̚͝ͅo̴̢̨̭̩̹̥͈̘̺͓͕͙̠͚̍͆́̊̿͊͆͛͐̀̆̏̿̆͘̕̕̕͜͠v̵̨̛̥̩͔͕̳͙̣̰̘͙̩̥̠̹͈͕̣̯̬̫͚͖̳̟͚̞̺͔̤̿̈́̎̋̃̉͗̃̇̂̊̈́͑̒̅̍͊͊͌̃̏͜͜͝͠ͅe̷̢̧̛͎̠͉̺̬͚̘̩̣̔͂̏̄̊͊͗̅̽̃̽̓̽̽̋͒̓̔͋͆̽̆͑̽̏̓͐̉͛͘̚̚͝͝ͅ ̸̪͚̳̈́̾̓͒̄̈́̈́̈͛̌̃͑̆͋̀̓̃͒͗͂͋͐̑̌̃͘m̷̛̛͎̲̮̪̰͖̩̗̝̩̒͐̀̏͒͋͋̈́̋͗͑͋͊̐͐̍͒͊̌̅͗̃̊̆͛͑̎̔̏̆̾͛͌͑̌̈́͠͠͝͠͠͝͠ě̴̺̜̼̱̪͚͚̬͛̔̓͊̊̈́̋̄͑̆͌̌̏́̐̊̔͘̕̕̕͘̚͘͝ͅ.̵͇̝̠͈̺̹̐̽̅̿̊̈͗͑̇͆̄̃̈́̌̅̈́̚̕̚͘ ̷̢̢̡̧̢̨̧̡̣̖͈̙͍̣̲̫̹̭͖̳̫̬̰̼̫͎̠͉̦̖͚̟̠̜͔͎̺̹̭̙̆̈̍̿̐̅͛͌͒̂̃͊͌́̑͋̓̐͊͊̎̄̈́̏͋͌̓̕͘͜͜͠͠T̴̨̡̺͖̩̠̬̟͎̪̻͇͕̺̦̻̝̟̝̦͕͎̭͙̋̓̎͂̆̑̃͒̿̋̊͑́͆̈̽͊̏̆̾̒̃͛͛̒͒͌̎̊̑̄̊͐͝͝͠͠͝h̸̺̺͍̮̠̝̳̫̞͚̻̠͇͓̱̲̟̙̱̩̰̹̻̮̹̃͂͂̏̄͋̐̋̈̀̂͛̋̇͒̎̄̃̐̀̈̆͗̍̽̔̆̀̆̿̈́̓̚͘͜͠͠͝͝͠ä̶̢̨̨͔̤̭͕̻̺͚̰̮̲͇̬͓̥̠̳̭͎͕̘͙̯͔͇̣̬̩͙̙͖͈͉̭̺̝͇͕͉͇̞͔̺̇̓͌̒̈́͂̌̉̉̇͌̉̇́̂̎́͋́̇̀̃̔̍͊̃͒͒̐͛̕̚͜͜͠ͅt̶̢̢̧̡̤̠͍͖̫̞͕͕̤͇̲͚̝̭̣̻̤͍̲͉̹̰̯̣̼͎̮͖̥̤̭̹͔̫͖̥̯͔͙̼̙̉́͆̿͆͆̅̿͆̋̃͗͗̓̑̃͘͝'̴̧̨̱͓̭̣͈̖͙̟̜̩̱͇̥̩̱̹̩̬̩̔̍͂̾̂̾͒͐̏̂̈́̉͋̈̋͑̅͊̃̈́̈̌̉͌͛̌̅͘̕̕̕̕͝͠͝͝͝͝ͅs̵̨̪͍̼͇̼̪̩̭̟̥̫͓̤̜̮͈͗́͑̔͛̒͒̿̍̓̿̔̈̉̇̏͑̐̄͋̇̅̚͝͝͠ ̷̢͉̬̮̺̞̻̩̜̥͖͍̞̦͖͍͓̖͍̪̭͎̝̙̠̿̈́͋̾̑͂̓̐͑̇͛̍̓͂̄̇î̶̡͚͇̦͓͙̯̤̬̞̣̱̰͚͙̯̘̦͍̺̣̱͓̯̳̝͓̭̝̼̓̑͗̇̈́͊̑̇͛̆̏͒̔̾̓͝͝͠t̴̹̱͕̹̰̞͙̗̯̏̓̎̎̔̐̎͂̈́̀͂̏̋̔̈́͒̈́͌̓̊̋͋̍́̿̽̇̾́̍̇̒̆̒̂̒͘̚̚̚͜͝͝͝͝.̴̨̡̨̢̡̢̧͉͓̠̞͚̱̤͇̜̠̦̝̜̬̘͉̣̟̗̗̻͈̞̯̩͈͔͙͎̗̙̝̳̫̤͔͐͑̄̋̾̔̍͑̏̄̅̉̈́͒̋͛̑́̆̍́͐͘͜͜͠ͅͅ ̵̨̧̢̜̞͉̮̫͍͓͈̭͙̜͕̮̥̻͉̮͙̹̤̬͕̠͎̗͓̺͍̩̳̞̰̯̲̈̔̔͒̊̑̂͐̿̇̏͊͋̄̈̌͝͠ͅC̴̨̡͎̦͎͓̭͓̜͚̙̻̥̫͚̄̎̋̔̒̈́͌̌͌̆͑̄̉̄̔̂̏̉͊̃̑̌̿͋̈́̓̓̔̐̇̎̓͘̚͘͠͝͝͝ͅr̸͈̙̯͓̠̖̘̝̦̖͚̞̮̟͕̠̩̘̘̰̩̠͙̭̗̪̭̻͇̅̃̎͜͠y̵̧̧̢̧̛̛̪̠̪̰̩̮͙̩̜̮̲̲̥̥͉̲͉̘̳͎͉̦͎̫͚̞̟͔͔̲̺̳͔̳͛͋͛͑̏̂̊̋̈̇̑̏̃̍̏̽̅͂͆̌̅͑̿̚͠͝͠͝͠ͅͅͅ ̴̛͖͚̺̠͔̣̦̳̒̆͊̋̓͌͊͆̒͊͑̈̉̃̋͑̈̔̈́̃͆̾͌̌̆̄̇̈́̒̐̈́͗̕͝͠͝y̵̧̧̡̼̻̗̲̘̲̪̝͕̻̩̠̳͖̦͓̝͇̘͖̯͍̫̰̱̜̤̠̬͉̜͙̳̳̪͌͜ǫ̶̨̧̡̧̧̛̪̤̫̬͓̮͚̱̟͇͎͎͉̠̗̙̙̭͙̟̹͖̞̦̙̰͎͕̖͕̰͖̣͇̣̦̽̃̂͑̇͌̃͛́̑͐͆̔̿̉̀͊̈̃̽͒͊̓͌̒̽͂̇̄̓̓͂̉̓͘͘͜ũ̵͖̥̱̪̠͙͉̟̗͇̤̰͍͖̪̮̞͎̑͒͊̈͑̌͛̑̇͝͠r̸̡̛̗̘̮̣͔̼̙̻̊̐̂̈́̾͆̇̀̈́̂̀̏̅̏̐̓̉̓̐̉̓̒͒̉͜ ̵̨̧̛̩̭̪̻̝͓̫͚̺̬͕̹͙̞̖͓̰͇̫̻̅̍͗̃̿͗̇̋͛̈̈́̏̈̆̏̌͒͊̉̒̓͋͋͒͛̚͜͜͝ͅh̵̡̢̢̧̛͉̼̫͙̲̫̪̹̮͖͈̮̹̗̜̬͙͍͍͇̩̪̥͇̗̮͚̙̺̭̻̮̎̂͊̍̇̔̂͌͗̐͗́̑̌̓̐͒̓̀͂̑̈́̋̃̈́͂̐̇̍͗̕̕é̵̢͍̖̮͉̘͈̺̣̱̦̗̰̗̥̋̄͋̑͊͋a̴̢͍̟̹͇̹̺̜̣͙̣͔̫͍̙̫͙̒̓͑̈́̅̏̎͘͜r̸̨̙̯͍͕̘̱̦͙̠̫͍̘̻̳͍̥͓̬͚̝̔̔̍̍͆̇͑̈́͋̊͒̈́̇̂̈́̉̍̊̑̐̊̀͘͘͘͘͘͝͝ţ̵̧̢̛̛̣̲̟̦̫̣͓͚͕̫̲̖͙̻͍̠̪̹͍͈̳͎̝̳̌̋̈͐̄̈̅́̊̒͗͊͗͑̾̒͆̓̑̓͋̆̀̇̌̃̆̍̕̚͘̕͜͝͝͠ͅ ̷̨̨͇͈͕͔̳̫̺̟̞͖̙̪͖̜̻̗̤̫͎̲͌̑̿̀͌͂̍̄̃͐̎̈́̔͌̉̈́̓̂̓̃̏̾͂̄̈́͊͑̍͐̆͛͆͑̓̓̉̒̚̚̚̕͝͝͝ơ̴̛͕̭̟͋̇̎̈́̈͛̓̐́͑͗̋̆́̒̃̈́̈́̈̈́̃̂̅́͐̈́̿̉̈́͌̕͘̕͝͠͝͠ǘ̵͖̠̫͈͉̻̔̽̅̇̂͒̐͂̑́̒̾̈̄͒̑͊͛̈̂̓͑̆̍̏̈́̋̋͆̈́̄͐͗͘̕͘͠͝͠t̴̢̧̨̼̥͕͍̤̱̝͈̝͉͙̞̫̻͎̲̪̣̖̣͕̥̹͎̘̖̳̠̱͎̜͈̪̘̦̜̓͆͜͝͝ͅ.̸̧̪͇̝̥̼̫̔͐͑͛ ̸̢̧̨̡͖̻̮͕͖̫̣̣̞̗̜̘͕̼̠͕̦͇̜͙̫̜͕̜̣̺͚̫̠̥̹̹͙͇͚̗͇͕̳̘͙̒̊̄͋̓̅́͊͆͋̃̓̓̎̉̕͝ͅĠ̵̢̨̛̛͍̘̯͍̪̯̪̻̹̰̦̥̜̗̘̘͙̲̹̳̟̭͈͎̥̳̘̻̙̺͍̤͉͉̈́̆̓̄̑̄͐̃͒̾̽̈́͒̄̑̄̍͌͐̈̒̿́̆̇̑̈́̆͒̄̅͛̕͘͘͜͝͠͝ͅͅŕ̷̢̧̧̧̢̢̛̛͍̼̲̺̺͉͚̭̲̲̬̜̯̺̖͎͙̥̥͖̠͙̬͖̖͉̫̙̳͎̝̳̂͆͆̅̅͋̒͐̆͐̎͋̐̾̄̃͗̑̿̂͑͑͛̽́̈͌͛̇͛̏̌̈͌̌̓͛͌͗́̚͘ͅo̵̢̯̩̗̲̣̜̲̝̻̣͗͊̄̌́͌̄̒̔̾̂͐̈́͌̇̍̈́̏̀̀̈̒͐́̓͒̉̋̈́͊̽̊͆̚͘͝͝v̵̱̩͈͓͉̩̲̤̥̻͕͎͇̳̙̱̭͇̉̎͋͊̄̈̏͑͒̽̋̿̾̍̂̅͗̈́͜͝ͅͅę̴̡̨̧̨̹̱̣̼̼͎̖̭̬̻͕̯̜̺̺͙̮̭͍͕͓͔̱̓͂̀̾͆̇̓̌̾̂̚͜͜͝l̷̢̮̖̈́̊̏̓͆̊̀̔͋̑̃̅͊̐́̈́̿̊̈́̐̔̈́̓̀̍̾͗́͐̒̂̃̕͝͠͠͠ ̸̥͖̮̠̭͇͚̬̑̿̏̀̈́̓̈́̂͐̍̇̂̃͗̇͒̓̍̐̉̔͜͝͝ő̷̖̳̟͓̈́͒͒̃̏̈́̉̆̕͘͜͠ͅņ̵̛̛͈͍̣̜̯͎͔͈͚̏͂̽͒̿̇̇̊̉̈́̈́͗̚̕͠͝͝ ̸̧̛̟͎̿̅͛̀̐͆͊̈́̍̅̆͋̓͌͑͂̃̍̈́̐̐̂͛̏͌̄̈́̀̌͂͒̈́̈́͗͒̌̐̚͘͝͝͠͝ͅţ̶̡̛̛͎̯̳̝̹͓̼̬̪̥̭̭̠̼͈̜̪̥͕͔͎̝̱̹̗̝̦͚͕̣͈̮̜͍̩̦̙̻͔̄̂̀̈́̈̔̀̌̍̒̊̈́̌̌̇̓̍͂̈́́̒̋̂̿̽̋͆͊̈̌͑̒̽̕͘͘̕̚͜͜͠͝͠͝͠ͅh̵̢̳͎̯͈̜̫̠͍̦̺̅̍͛̓̋͆̂͗̋̉̂̾̾̈͛͒̃̓͊̅̈́̌͘̚͝͠ȇ̴̢̧̡̨̨̩̱͓͕̳͇̤̳̳̮̙͎̱̮̝̤̗̖̜̠̣̳̪̺͍͖̗͙̤͔̩̮̖̖̳̭̱͖̔̊̆̆͌̈́͐͊̈̊̂̾̂̿̇̏̍͊͂̾͆̓̉̉̉̽͋͛̑̌̈̈́͜͝͝͝ͅͅ ̴̦͈̰̪̓̀̂͛̊̾͒͛̽͊͌̋̓̓͘̚̚͝ͅf̵̛̛̲̪̱͚͉̈̈͊͐̾́͌͛͑̿̿͛̉̓͒̈̉̓͑͋́̈́͊͑͐̈́͒͒̐̈̿̓̚̚͘͝l̶̨̢̡̛̛̥̯͓͍͎̣̝͍̳̬̼̫̹̀̅̿͑̎̊͆͋̈̈́̈́͐̂̍̌̎̃̅͌̉̋͐̉̏͌̇̈̎̐̋́̈́̕͘̕̚͘͝͠͝͠ơ̴̡̺̙͕̹̙̖̝͖̜̖͉̼̦͍̤̦̞͙̬͒͋̈́̆͌̓̈́͐̎̋̄̋̅͆͑̈̋͂̓̀̏͒̇͛̌͐̉͊̉̚͠͠ͅo̶̢̢̧̢̩̳͍͕͖̻̱͔͙̝̜̰̘̙̫͙̙͍̮͉̗̯̰̗̝̪͎̖̥͐̐͐̐̀̆́̌̒̊̉̚͜͝͠ͅr̷̫̬̝̤̹̩̤͔͓̝̈́͑̈̓͗̑̀͊̉̕ͅ ̴̨̢̡̛̛̺̯͔̗͙̺̗̜̬̮͓̟̪̺͍̼̯͙̳̙̖͈̠̠͇̮̲͙̀̒͂͆͂̈́̇̈͌͐̃̈́̉̽͊͂̚̚͜͝͠ͅͅf̴̨̨̨̢̨̗̝̣̤̤̟̳̩̣̜̭͚̠̱̬͈̙̙̗̱͚̜̺̻̯͈̘̫̱̝̤̥̳̣̳͓̠̈̆̐̋̌̉͒͌̃̈́́͌̈́̃̈́̃͌̈́̿̒̽̑͆͛̃̓̚͘͠ơ̷̧̢̢̧̛̠̝̻͙͉̯̲̬͔̫̻̝͙͇̰̲̩̜̭͕̫̻̳̘͈̝̞̗̙̟̝͈̣̺̓͐͒̎̊̒̓̓̑͛̑̄̏͌̔̾̌̿̇̉̈́̑̋͋̎̐̈́̚̕̚̕̕̕ͅr̴̨̧̨̨̨̧̛͙̬̭͚̤͉͖͙̙̙͖͕̮̱͕̪͖̳̱̗͓͔͇̦͚̯̳̩̼͇͈̪̩̗̭̩̙͕̤͚̣̆͊̆͋͒̽̀́̊̉̍͂͋̔̋́͌̓̌̓̕͠͠ͅ ̷̨̢̡̡̡̛̠̣̺̟̮̬͈̮͎͓͇̯̟̹̹̳̬͉̺̲̰͍̥̙͖͍͙̱̤͚͍̖̮͇͉̞͉̙͌̓̿̈́̏͂͆́͜͠͝͠͝ͅm̸̡̛̞̮͈̖̮͍̯͉̭̺̮͖̖̰̪̩͚̗̲̼̭͍͉̽̾͒̆̎͋̈́͐͂̇̽̓̌̊́͊̃̏̚͝͝ͅę̸̢̭̦̻̮͚̩͍̫̰͇̫̮̠̝̜̹̰͚̞͉̦̞̖͙̭̙̜̭͗̇̂̀̊̽̎̉̂͑̊͂̄̂̈̾̉̄͐̕͜͝͝͝ͅ.̶̢̢̧̧̧̢̛̰̼͙̬͚̩͍͕͍̺̣͖̯͇̬͔̋̾̓ ̸̨̱̱͓̥̻͖̖̹͎̭̮̱͖͔̣̗̟̻̭͍̫̜͈̘͉̹͎̯̗̥̠̖̦̠͖̻̫̭̦̪̲̩̉̌̐̉̌̅̌̅͆̓̚͘̕͜͜ͅD̵͉̙̯̦͊͒̈̾̿̔͘ơ̷̢̢̧̛̳̻̘̱̳̲͈̟͈̬̮̪̙̯͕͍͙̹̭̼͙̞̞̥̝͕͔̇͊̇̊̽̆̓̃͂̅͛̽̍̊̃̔̈́̃͘͜͠͝n̴̡̡̡̳͎̝̞̝̦̹̪̠̪̻̯̝̦͍͕͓͔͓͎̟͍͈̙̿̈́̋̈́̓̈́̑̈̚'̶̛͇̬̠̼̗́̆́͒͒̂̊̒̈̄͐̇̅́̈͐͛̎̽̇̏̅͐t̸̢̢̹̗̰̦͉̥̻̘̝̺̠̗̗̺̦̲̀̈́̎̄̚ ̶̡̧̡͍̹̝̲̤̤̻̝̟̞̠̲͓͇̝̥̯͈̳̘̙̘͈͍̱̲͔͙̥̞̰̃̎͋̍̍̉̿̾͂̽̓͗̍̇̐̉̾̄̉̕̕͜͝ͅy̸̢̨̢̛̲̗͍̭̤̩̬̰̠̟̫͙̳̭͖̺̗͙͎̰̯̪̝̯̜̟͎͚̗͚̥̯̽͒̆̋̂̄̀̓̑̈́͊͛͐̌̃͋͆͑͌͆̏͂̐̌̐̅̈̽̈́̚͘̚̚͜͜͠͝͝͝ͅo̴̞͚͎̠͇͊͐̒̂̄̿͛̊̓̾̂̈́̅̋̕ų̸̧̛̙̗͉̳̪̱͕͕͍̗̙̗̣̳̪̖̟̗͖͉͎̫̼͔͍̩͔̰͕̜̥͈̟͗̈́͐͂̌̄̈́͒̎̋̄͐͂̈́̇̈̾͌̌̾̓̒̿̅̆̆̒̄̃̈́̓͒͑̃͌̽̿̇̿͛͘̚ͅ ̸̨̡̢̨̬̪̠̠̝̖̠̙͉͙̠͚̭̮̯̝̭̭̖͉̠͂͂̒̔̊̅̂̈́̋̈́͐̾̾͆͊͌̉̚̕̚͘͘͜͜͝͝ͅͅk̷̢̨̨̢̛̘̩̘̼̭͎̣̤͖͍̫̤̲͚̻̜̯̫̞̱̠̳̱̳̙͔̬͔̘͖͎͎͖̅̋̒̾͋̓́̈́͋̑̑̄̂͊̍͌̚͝ṋ̴̨̨͓͓͙̩̭̳͚͎̼̞̬̲͓̭͚̜͓̭͉̻̗̼̘̞̜̟̲͎̮͇̫̘̹̘̥̣͍̓͂̏͂͐̓̍̍̎̉̈̊̿͂̎̎̚͜͝͝ͅǫ̷̡̧̧̛̣̖͈̤̩̜̲̰̠̦̭̲̫͙̮̭̺͕͍͇͇̩̝̻̦͍̥͉̥̠͍̻̪̲̗̹̲̖̺̘̈́̃͋̐̾̒͆͗̾̓͜w̸̛̙̠͓̽̈́̃̎͒͆̽̅̈́͆̓̾̐̽͐̎͌̏̓̌̽̉́͑̄̂̋̓̋͊̀͛̈́͌͛̓̔̅̂̚̚̚͝͝͝ ̷̡̡͌̏̈́̌̑͛͊̈́̍̉͂̏̈̇́̇͛̒̉̌̂͂̈́̈́͆̒̃̓͂͗̕͘͝h̴͚̩̜̼̩͙̩̣̣͉͖̪̮̜̬̰̜̮͇̩̥͍̱̬͉̳͌̓̐̓̎͊̈́͐̓͑̀̆͆̆͒̽̒͘o̶̧̧̢̧̭̤͔̗̮̦̼̰̗̩̘̟͙̟̣̬͉͚̪͎͔̗̪̭̪̺͖͙͉̤̜̣̰͎̙̩͚̜͍̽͒̓̋̐̋̃̆̓̒̇̊̐̿͋͑̈̊̇͛̅͛͒̃͂͛̃̈́̽͛̚̚̕͜͠͝͝ͅw̶̛͓͎͑͑͝ ̷̡̛̛̩̣̦̤̫̙͔̮͎͈̖̺̲̯̹̲̗̲̱̦̤̟͉͎͚̱̠̝̤̦̖̮͔̯̙̣̿͛̾̅̾̈́͒̓̅̅̓͐͑̏̈͋̓̍̀̿̋́̏͆̆̌͌̀̍̂̆̈́̓̾͝͠͠͝ͅẖ̶̨̢̧̧̨̱̠͚̰͍̤͖͓͉̭͙̭̲̘͕̟̟̖̲̪̗͎̐͑̈́̎͗̑͑͊̂́̿́̒̈́́̊̆̑̈́͂̎͛͊̾̌́̈͑͆̈̇̌̑̕̕̕͜͝͝͠͠a̴̡̧̨̧̹͎͈͚͙̠̜͈̮͓̘̠͍̬̬̳̣̰̍͑͌̐̃̋̎̉͌͐̒͛̽̈́̉͊́̏͊̌͊̏̈̾̈́͒̎̍̈́̍̋̈́͘͜͠ͅͅͅp̷̡̡̧̢̡̡͎̻̫͖̟̪̬͎͕̱̣̲͍͕͍̮̤̥̟̬̃̋͊̽͛͐̓͋̆̔͌̒͜͝p̴̛̘͈̟̼̞̹̊̓͛͋̎̂̔͒̆͆͊̒̈̆͐͐͊̍̉̾̓́̕y̷̧̡̢̧̡̛̮̯̮͍̦̗̩͓̩̙̞̪̭̫̪̝̜̤̪̻̘͓͓͔̏͋̏̉̑̇̍͒̾̉͑̀̄͌̊͋͗̂͗͘̕͠͝ ̶̨̢͙̖̩͚̝̲͔̺̬͚͙̰̬͖̜̠͙̜̣̭͕̬̯̂̋̾͌̌͌̔̇̊͂̉͗͋̐̾͘͜͝͝͝i̷̧̛̗͖͕̠͍̰̱̩̯̮̞̲̫͖̰̇͑̌t̵̢̡̛͉͔̗̻̦̰̦͎̠̪̩̖̺̮͉͖͇̳͇̺͙͙̼̘̰͎̱̯͙͆̽̉̊̈͒̔̉̔̀̒͋́̓͑͗̀̚ ̸̡̛̞̳͖̰̣͖̫̹͑̀̾̄̋̂͐̔̔̾̋̅̌͜m̵̢̡̧̢̧̛̛̲̬͉̜̣̬̤̭̪̭̬̺̥̖̰̮̲̣̣̲̪̱̰̫̦̪̫̰̥̼̫͕̲̰̱̋̈̋̎͌͑̆̅̈́̓̓̐̿͘ͅa̵̡̨̨̱̻̹̯͚͉̙̯̮͓̾̅͋̈́̊̂͑̊̾̐͊͗̂͊̈́̒̄̀̿̄͂̕͝͝ķ̴̨̡̖͚͈̙̹̼̳̭͔̩̻̞̙̥̙̦͖̹͎͉̣̖̼̫͚̞̬̤̉͜͜͝ͅȩ̴̨̫̝̭̝͕͖͖͙̰̻̗̣̣̗̓̅̋͌̇̍͐͛͛̄̀̏͆̃͊͆̓͗̿̑͗̚͘ş̸̢̡̡̧̳̞͎̹͍͙͎̥̖̼͕͙͖͍̱͕͚͔̩̙̖͚͍͙͉̺̥͓̙̞͖͉̠̮͈͙̳͕͛͗̿̃͆̀͘͜ ̴̧̨̢̨̧̘̜͔̯̺͇̲̣̫͕͙̜͉̬̹͔͖̳͚͍̫̳̩͕̬̝̤̰̠̻̜͖͓͚̝͕̠͓͓̬̉͜͜m̶̨̧̛͚̖̣͖͎̪͚͎̪̦̠͎̗͇͕̺͉̰̟̪̗͈̟͙̩͓͔̰̜͚̭̙̞̹̻̜̈̍̈́̋̔͌̒̏̋̎͑͂͛͊̓̇̏͆̉͒̄̐̌͛͌̚̕͜ͅͅḛ̴̘͈͙͙͓͊̓̊̽̐͌̅̀̾̍͒̽̿̎̾̐̐͗̅̆̐̌́͌͐̽͐̄͊̉̈́̇͗̎͆͌̄͊̚̕͘̚͠͠͝ ̵̢̪̣͚̥̗͎̘͍̦͈͎͚̱̼̮̗̤̣͓͕̑͛̈̈́̊̄̓t̷̢̨͕̘̜̩͕͙͓͕͇͙̱̤͍̜͎͍͚̬̬̼̯̪̒̔ơ̸̡̧͙͍͚̫̲̬̪̲͍͈̭̥̮͈͉̞̮̠̺͂̃́͆̅̒̓̏̏̎̀̊̃̉̚͜͠ͅ ̴̨̢̛̘͕͈͍͕͓̝̲͖̦̜̺̥̤̄̽̏̍̊̿̂͆͒͒́̀͑̔̏͘͘͜͝s̸̡̡̧̡̙͚̘̭͇̮͍̊͑͊͊͛̕͘ȩ̴̧̢̫̼͕̦͇̫̥͎̺͈̰͚̠͈̱̗̫͙̼̞͙̱͙̤̻͔̭̜͚̼͔̹̤̀̒̉̉̅̃̃͋̂̆͐̄̀͑̈́͊͛͛̃͌̐̕͜͜͜e̷̢̨̛̖̜̝̘̥̞͚̪̝̠̼͉͕̖͕͑̈́̂̈͑̅̅̈́̀̈͋͘͠͠͝͠ ̸̢̧̨̨̢̨͔̮̫͎̣̩͈̬̹̹̲̯̙̙͔̱̺̖͈̺̬̪͙͖̩̣̠̻̠̭͍͓̋̔̊̀̉̓̽͘͜͜y̵̧̝̬͓̭̱̻̟̜̪͓̪͇̩̮͔̦̫̩̜̤͓͈̺̠̹̲̥̯̱̼͔̪̥̥̩͇̝̥̜̼̱̪̼̆́̓͜͜ͅǫ̵̧̛̛͈̱̻͓͔̰̹̜̪̳̙̠͙̞͕̦̩̤͙̹̫̖̣̹̠̱͕̥̹̱̠̖̊͋̈́̉͆̊̆̍͊̿̌͊͐͌͌̽͑͆̑̍̑͌̋̍̅̇̏̕̕͝͝͝ṳ̸̢͔̻̝̰̠͚͔͙̱̟̙̖̟̦̖͖͇̙̖̞̟̰̺̝̼̰̙̮̹͉͆̈́͌̌͛̅̄̐͘̕͠ ̸̡̧͙̬̟̺͔̖̼̲̼͉͇̼͉͍͖͉͇͈̫̮͇̼̻̈́̔͛̐̿̔͛̈̿͋͒̇̐͛̂͗͑̾͛̄͆̿̒͊͂́̌̈́͐̚͜͝l̴̨̢̢̨̡̙͈͇̟̞͓͙̫̩͖͉͉͙̖̘̮̰̯̫̠̥̬̮͓̫̟͎̣̜̞̼̣̠̒͗̿̾̎̚͝͠͠i̶̢̨̧̧̡̡̨̧̢̮̲̖̺̬̠̱͎͉̮̭͙̦̺̩͖̻̯͈̭̫̹̠͔̙͉̱̥̺͖̭͚̝̤̱͈̺̒̅̾͗̎͋̒̂̔̔͋̒͌̌̑̎̂̀̆̇͆̂̎̓̈́͌̓͌͘̕͜͜͝͝k̷̨̨̛͔̠̗͔̗͍̘̲̤̺̥̱̙̩̞̮̮͍̲̮̗̙̻̬͎͍̑̿̓̎̆̌̒̆̃̎͂̔̐̅̅̊̎̅̃̋̾̇̽̾̿̐̈́͐͗̉̀͂̀̚̚͝͝͠͝ͅȩ̸̡̡̧̨̦͎̘̭͈̼̤̤͕̣̫͍̮̞̜̗̪̘̼̪͚͍̤͈̱͚͔͓̃̈́̾́̚͜͜ ̷̡̧̨̨̧̛̬͕̩̭̦̤̣͕̻͚̘̲̲̩̤̮͈̹̤̫̣͙̺̖͈̯͉̥̘̱̟̘̣̟̒͛͆͐̅͂̎̋͛̔̾̈́̾̌̈̽̌̋̌̓̓̋̚͝ͅt̸̢̹͎͇̣̼̫͚͈̣̝̮̠̆͑̾̑͂̓̓͒͋̊͗͑͊̇͂̍̈́̚͘h̷̻̟̙̬̥̝̘̓̄̇̒̇̚͘͘̕a̸̡̧̢̢̦̜̙̺̖̣̜͉͍͚̘̞̲͕̼͚͍͖̬͎͈̻͕̱̰̱͖͙͍͎̳̠̝̱̘̣͒̃͂̎̿̿̇̑̒͆͊̎̈́͑̐̈̓̊̉͑͘͜͜͠ţ̷̡̛͙̤͙̻̱̝͓͙̪̮̫͐̆̓̊̑̋̔̈̒̕̕͜?̷̨̛̠̮͉̜͉͒̉̏̿̓̌͗̊͐̿̇̑̊͝͝ ̴̢̡̧̢̧̧͈̠̜̘̳̬̯̮̮̲̞͙̞͈̟͈͙̺̜̠̝̻̲̪̝̙͈͙͔͓͇̱͙̗̹̣̹̬͚͉͗̔̊͊͒̓̽͌̀̓́̽̔̓̂̒̽͊̾̔͗̑̑̉̔̈́̃͊͛̂̓̓̀̈̂̍̇̂̔͌̕̕̚͜͝͝ͅ

̵̧̛̱̩̝̣͓̰̜͈̤̻̗͉̹̮̲̜̱̫̳̮͉̓̑̉̿̌͒̾͐̓́͜͠ͅ

Yoon Jeonghan hears that Choi Seungcheols brother has died recently. They found him drowned in a lake. Suicide. He has to wonder what that must mean. He briefly comes to the wake to see Choi Seungcheol in black mourning robes, bowing robotically to all those that come near him. His father is smiling, unsurprisingly. 

At one point, his father grips Seungcheols shoulder and he tenses up like a rock. An uncomfortable knot twists inside Jeonghans stomach. 

Two nights later Seungcheol is expected to attend a benefit hosted by the Yoon Group. 

Only him, though. His father had thought staying home to mourn would have looked better for the press. 

It’s a gaudy event. Jeonghan would know, his mother is hosting it. With big chandeliers casting scary shadows and too many idols being paraded around like trophies. It's one of those events where rich people just show up to let everyone know how rich they are, press events, lots of cameras, have to give everyone else something to talk about. Jeonghan doesn’t like the stares he gets. 

“It was a-...a senseless tragedy.” 

Seungcheol is off to the side, talking to a journalist, staring those camera flashes in the eye like he wants them to blind him. Jeonghan hadn’t been able to go to the funeral itself. His domestic tour is soon, Seoul, Busan, Daegu, Incheon, a few other cities, he can’t remember all of them but he’s been rehearsing. 

Jeonghan looks at him, sees the shadows under his eyes. He's staring into nothing as he speaks. Seungcheols gotten so good at telling the press what they want to hear, Jeonghan can’t remember what his own opinions are sometimes.

All he knows is that Seungcheols father had his brother killed.

Seungcheol pretends he needs a second, like the lights are too bright, like his overwhelming love for his deceased brother is threatening to make him cry. The journalist quiets down at the sudden emotion, scribbling quietly into the little notepad. This is shaping up to be a good scoop.

Seungcheol grits out the last part. It’s so perfectly rehearsed.

“I miss him.” He takes a shuddery breath for emphasis. “But I’m thankful that the Yoons are taking good care of me tonight. The Choi Group has no further comment.” 

The journalist mumbles a quick condolence and shakes his hand, before bowing and taking his leave. Seungcheol glances around the crowd, his eyes land on Jeonghan and he gives a smile that looks more like a wince. 

Jeonghan smiles back but he senses him before he hears him. Mr. Yoon, as he comes up to Jeonghans back while Seungcheol simultaneously makes his way over to him. Just at the hum of his voice, Jeonghans mind drops into an abyss. He shakes hands with Seungcheol quietly. 

“Not much mention of the cause from my greatest business partners.” Mr. Yoon says to him quietly. “This isn’t a party.” 

“I’m mourning, sir.” Seungcheol tells him. 

It would have looked superficial, anyway. 

The cause is saving endangered species in the mountains of Jeju. But half the proceeds cycle back into the Yoons bank account because they have 63% ownership of the charity that funds operations. Real sly rich people shit. 

“Gorgeous suit.” Mr. Yoon circles his palm around Seungcheols bicep like a viper, right around a big black bruise like he knows it’s there. “Burberry?”

Seungcheol winces in pain. Mr. Yoons eyes twinkle ever so slightly. 

“G-Gucci.” 

“I see.” He let’s go. “The tweed threw me off.” 

“It’s from their fall line up.” 

“I’m sure you’re excited to see Jeonghans performance tonight.” As he grabs Jeonghans hand, he immediately starts to go even more numb, like there are needles sticking into his skin.

“Yeah, of course. Jeonghans a great singer.” 

Jeonghans blinks rapidly, climbing out of that abyss. Seungcheol is watching. Jeonghan would feel embarrassed to be dying in front of him. 

He opens his mouth to say something to his father when Mr.Yoon reaches out a hand that immediately silences him. 

Seungcheol watches as Mr. Yoon carefully pats his meticulously styled hair. Looks at his face like he’s checking for imperfections, a stray eyelash, a wrinkle of skin, a pore that dared to show itself. 

Jeonghans mouth quivers, eyes threatening to roll back into his skull. 

“Everything okay, Mr. Yoon?” Seungcheol tries to cut into whatever is happening in front of him.

A beat of silence. 

“What were you doing earlier?” He asks, taking a strange interest in Jeonghans middle knuckle. 

“N-nothing.” Jeonghan curls his other hand into a fist. 

Jeonghans knuckles on that hand are red and raw. He doesn’t remember how they became like that.

Mr. Yoon glances up at Jeonghan, again looking at his face instead of looking at _him_. He then let’s Jeonghans hand drop from his own, gives Seungcheol a polite smile to which he bows. 

“Tell your father to stay out of Gangnam for the first week of December.” He winks and is off before Seungcheol can make sense of what he says. 

Jeonghans let out an audible exhale as he watches the silhouette disappear into the sea of people mingling. 

“Hey.” Seungcheols voice is a lot nicer to hear when it’s not strained with forced politeness. 

“Hi.” 

He has a lovely smile too. 

“Sorry about your brother.” Jeonghan tilts his head. His perfectly styled hair moves just a little. Enough to convince someone that he's human. 

“I’m excited for your performance.” Seungcheol says. 

“I’m not.” Jeonghan shrugs. 

Seungcheol pouts at him, eyebrows raised quizzically. 

“If it helps, I love your singing.” He then says carefully. 

“Singing makes me wanna rip my throat out.” 

Seungcheols lips quirk into a smile. 

.

Later, Seungcheol shoves Jeonghan up against a marble wall and kisses him hard with a hand on his throat.

Jeonghans own hands are in Seungcheols hair, tugging them hard as he goes in deeper, humming softly. Seungcheols free hand roams Jeonghans chest, fingers padding over stiff nipples, thumbing the soft fabric of his top before coming to rest over his hip. He slips his thigh in between Jeonghans legs, feeling that smooth leather against the worn tweed of his pants. 

Jeonghan rubs his front against his thigh, to which Seungcheol pushes back harder. 

An involuntary whimper escapes Jeonghan and he pulls back with wet eyes to gaze at Seungcheol. A laugh comes out of Seungcheol, as he presses Jeonghan more into the pillar, kissing him harder. Jeonghan wonders if he could disappear into the pillar. He sees his own warped reflection in the mirror-like sheen of Seungcheols pupils as they part for a second. He pulls him back in going unnecessarily deeper.

Seungcheols phone starts ringing. 

“Fuck.” He mumbles into Jeonghans mouth, continually licking into him as he checks his phone. 

Jeonghan starts peppering kisses down Seungcheols neck, ignoring the buzz, still bucking subtly against his leg. 

“What happened?” He asks quietly, starting to undo his tie. 

Seungcheol tuts, putting his phone back in his pocket. 

“I think I’m gonna die tonight.” 

Jeonghan looks up at Seungcheol with pretty eyes. Seungcheols looking at him like he’s in a daze. Some sort of strange ache starts throbbing in his chest.

.

~~It’s a good night to be out of the house.~~

.

“Hey.” 

Jeonghan looks up from his place on the cushiony sofa to see Seungcheol standing in front of him with a half done cigarette in his hand. His cheekbone is red and swollen. 

“Can I sit here?” Is all he asks. 

“Sure.” 

He smiles a little, settling snuggly by Seungcheols side. He goes to grab a beer can out of the bucket of ice on the coffee table in front. The golden chandeliers hanging from the ceiling cast yellow shadows on his skin fighting against the blue strobe lights coming from the dance floor two stories down. 

Seungcheol then looks at him with a tilt of his head, a small smile.

“You look really nice when you’re dressed how you want.”

Jeonghan tends to look immaculate most of the time, always so perfect, always so tense. When Seungcheol compliments him, he doesn’t know what to say. 

“I mean.” Seungcheol continues through a drag. “You look nice even when you’re dressed for your schedules.” 

Jeonghan opens the can and looks up. A pink blush creeps up on his cheeks, looking royal purple against the blue and yellow lights, dancing in grey smoke. 

“Thanks.” He takes a sip and looks up at Seungcheol mischievously. “I should try looking ugly for once.” 

Seungcheol laughs, eyes crinkling into lines, the bruise on his face is starting to get darker. That ache in Jeonghans chest returns. His smile falters but he forces it back like its second nature. 

Seungcheol tends to see through his idol smile though.

“I’m fine.” He tells him finally. “It’s nothing.” 

“Does it hurt?” Jeonghan asks again gently, reaching up to touch the blooming red. 

Seungcheol contemplates, then opens his mouth to answer.

“H̷̬̤̲̪̭̩͎͔͔̹̠͛̉̊͐̌̌͌͑̂̽̀͜å̵̛̻̟̍̚v̴̢̤̱̗͔͖͙͔̮͎̯̟̬͌̽͝ȩ̵̍͗͂̉̒͝ ̷̛͖̥̦̬͓̟̝͓̘̌͛̈́͑̾͝y̷̢̲̺̣̫̜̖̺̑̍ͅͅö̴̝̙̲͎͉͎͜͜ū̵̡̠̬̪͉̼̱̟̟̰̻̍̈́̈́̊̄̅̂ ̶̺̱̣̘̻̗̫̱̰̬̽̈́̊͒̈̆͌̇͛̏̈̈́͒͂̾͜e̶͙̋͆̎̌̌͊̈̍͘͝͠͝͝v̶̛̫̥͓̲͖͓̜͚̟̫̭̿̾̉̈́̓̊̈́̃͌̅͂̽̚͝ê̸̡͈̜̰͍̱̒̇̈͑̔̾͛̈́̕̕ͅr̷̡͖̜̬̘̺͂̋̊̐͂̅̀͋̐̽͝͝ ̶̟͖̞͈̝̞̘͙̥͍͇͈̾͑̉͑̐̉̎̈́͜h̴̢̢̢̼̮̭̳̟̫͕͙̗̻͋̀̃̓̇͒̓͛̕͘̕ȧ̴̢̯̫̼̻̤͓͉͘͝ḑ̵̉͊͐͋̌͊͒̈̄͑͋͑̃̓̕ ̷̭͚͛̓̈̃̆̌̐a̷̪͔͈̱͔̭͖͓̪̪̓͑̈͗͆̓͒̌͋̄̈́ͅ ̴̧̧̛̛̼͖̠͉̩͍̼͔̖̭͉͍̤̈́̆̓̉̇͗́̋̿̒̅̏͠ğ̴̙̟͕̲͙̻ų̵͙̲̗͂̉̌͑͛̽́̚n̵̺͈̦͗͋̚ ̵̢̨̳͙̘̮̖̲̞̏̽̾̈́͆͌̓̎̎͑̒̈̚p̷̢͖̝̳͙̟̹̙͔̒̉͒̐̇̇̉͛̄͘͠ͅȏ̶̢̘̱̳͎̟͉̈́̾ỉ̸̡̤͔̥̳͎̳͍̖͛͐̄̄̉̄̈́̒͂̎̈́͒͜ͅͅn̴̨̩͖̞̖̝̑̾̏̂t̶̯̹̻̯͔̭̻̹͕̝͖̹̯̉̋̿̋͘͝͠e̷͈͓͉͉̯͔͂̒̋̀̍̊͑̐͐̏̄̆ḓ̸̲̳̯̜̰͒͛̓ͅ ̵̧̡̡̳̼͍̹̮̫̬̟͆̇̒͌̃͊̌͂̎̔̈́́̚̕͝a̸͔̤̗̞͚̻̫͖̦̹̞͔͜t̴̡̙̜̱͇͎͚̲̫̘̺͕̭͑̏̈́̽͑̎͌̐̚͜ͅ ̶̩̭̩̪͕̈́̈́̅͒̂̔̎̊̈̏͊̑̅y̶̗̪̠͙̯͓̞̤̟̩͍̰͍̟̼̓͋͘ỏ̸̰̺̰̹̒̈́̌͘ụ̵̭̣̯̼̣̮͎͚̲̥̩͓̽̒̿̾̅͒͆̄̈̕͘͘͜͠͠͠ͅr̶̨̧̖͇͇̖̭̙̰̬͙͉̪̳͊̅̐̆̍̆̅̈̒͗̽̚͘͝ͅ ̵̥̜̻̾̽͋̈́̒b̸̧̡̛̛̤͔̜̣̖̖̞̟͎̀̎̇̆̔̏̊̕͠ŗ̸̹̲̩̘̱͖̱̜̩̘̻̠̓͌̌͌̂͂̑̅̕͝á̸̫̥͝i̷̘̙̱̕͝ǹ̵̨̖̌̿͑͛̀́̆̈́̆͜?̷̢̢̛̬̬̤̳͓̳̱̫̪̩̙̘̰͆̈̇̀̎̓̈́̈͆͝” He says.

“What?” Jeonghan blinks, sitting up, heart dropping to his stomach like a pile of bricks.

Seungcheol blinks. 

“I said it doesn’t hurt.” He says a little louder, over the music. “Not a lot.”

“Oh…” Jeonghan exhales.

He cards his hand through his hair, eyes dragging up and down over Seungcheols figure before they meet his own gaze. 

“Don’t look at me like that.” Seungcheol makes to say it lightly, but it comes out with a twinge of sorrow. 

“Sorry.” Jeonghans says a little sadly. “I just...I get worried.” 

He has a right to. Seungcheol doesn’t tell him what happens in those closed door meetings with big CEOs and mafia dons and the like. Jeonghans imagination is more unforgiving than he’s willing to admit. 

The DJ starts playing Yoon Jeonghans newest single. Some type of butchered remix of it but his new single nonetheless. Sharp thorns start growing in his lungs, making it difficult to breathe.

Seungcheol notices, as is evident by his frown.

“I was gonna head to the apartment later.” He tries to distract him. 

Their shabby little secret apartment in the outskirts of the city. The only place where the air isn’t heavy with arsenic. 

Jeonghan feels like he’s fighting to stay alive. He grabs Seungcheols beer out of his hand and tips his head back, gulping it down feverishly, it spills out of the corners of his lips, trickles down his chin and neck. It must look erotic. Jeonghan’s always concerned with that kind of stuff. Looking pretty, or handsome, or sexy, or-

Seungcheol grabs him by the arm, standing up and leading him down to where they have those private rooms for private shows. A bouncer of sorts stops them until he figures out who they are. Seungcheol pulls out his wallet and slams a couple of bills into his hands just to get him to leave them alone. 

The room is a nice one, spacious, bathing in red light. Seungcheol yanks him toward the platform and sits down, pulling him to straddle his lap before holding Jeonghans cheeks in his palms and touching their foreheads. A small uncomfortable jolt of electricity sparks where their skin touches.

And now when Seungcheol grins up at him, it's not that nice smile of his, more of a feverish grin. Wherever he touches him is rough on purpose. Just to bring Jeonghan back to reality and not into that strange fugue he goes into whenever he hears his own singing. 

He kisses him hard, the nasty taste of his cigarette coats Jeonghans tongue and he leans back, just to take a breather. 

Seungcheol tilts his head to the side and takes a heavy rip of his cigarette. He grabs Jeonghans jaw, pressing their open mouths together and exhaling offending grey smoke directly into his lungs. Jeonghan coughs, hands coming to grip the front of Seungcheols shirt as smoke seeps out of his nose and the corners of their lips. He pulls away with a rattled gasp. 

Seungcheol leans back, still gripping his jaw, watching with dark eyes. Jeonghans eyes are teary as he coughs again. He blinks a few times, lets a skinny slither of tears run down his face before leaning forward to kiss Seungcheol a little gently this time. Seungcheol wraps one arm around the small of Jeonghans back and falls back onto the platform. 

Jeonghan goes from his mouth to his cheek to his jaw to his throat before resting his cheek in the space between his shoulder and neck with a sigh. Seungcheol rubs his back quietly with one hand, continuing to smoke with the other. 

“They’re adding another night to the Seoul leg of my domestic tour.” Jeonghan then speaks up. “You wanna come?”

“What day?” 

.

Dispatch makes headlines a few nights later. 

_Nations sweetheart Yoon Jeonghan seen sitting close with the heir of influential Choi Group in Itaewon Nightclub._

Guess the hush money didn't work. 

Mrs. Yoon is sobbing in the living room. Jeonghan stands by silently, clenching and unclenching his fists. He stares hard at the wall trying to ignore the odd angle from which his father is looking at him. 

“Oh, he’s ruined!” Mrs. Yoon wails. “My poor son has been ruined by that filthy Choi mutt!”

Jeonghans breath hitches as her voice cracks. Oh, he’s been so terrible making his mother worry like that. 

“I-I’m sorry.” He whispers. “I didn’t mean to.” 

“Of course, you didn’t mean to!” His mother laments and staggers up to him, clutching both his arms. “That bastard took advantage of you!” 

Jeonghan screws his mouth shut as he feels his father take a few steps to the side so that he is directly in Jeonghans line of sight. It makes him dizzy. Makes him feel like he’s not really in his body. 

“You’re not hurt, are you?” She asks, looking him up and down. 

She starts at his hand. Opposite from where his father starts. She grabs it gingerly, checking each finger, feeling each knuckle, swiping a gentle finger over every vein as it leads up to his wrist and arm. 

Jeonghan keeps his gaze fixed stiffly ahead. His father is standing there. Or is he? Jeonghan can never tell anymore. 

He keeps his narrow eyes on Jeonghan. On its own, his mind starts pleading. 

_I am not a doll I am not a doll I am not a doll I am not a doll I am not a doll I am not a doll I am not a doll I am not a doll I am not a doll I am not a doll I am not a doll I am not a doll I am not a doll I am not a doll I am not a doll I am not a doll I am not a doll I am not a doll I am not a doll I am not a doll I am not a doll I am not a doll I am not a doll I am not a doll I am not a doll I am not a doll I am not a doll I am not a doll I am not a doll I am not adoll I am nota doll I am not a doll I am not a doll I am not a doll I aI am not a doll I am not a doll I am noam nt a doll_

_I am not adoll_

_Iam not_

Mr.Yoon speaks up. 

“What do you think your fans are saying right now?”

They must be furious. Jeonghan represents their little fantasy and they must be furious that he shattered it. On top of that with someone who they can’t target and harass. 

“I’ll-I’ll write an apology.” Jeonghan stammers out. 

“Good.”

~~~

  
  


Seungcheol has laid Jeonghan down to rest on his bed, is in the process of taking his god-awful, uncomfortable designer suit off.

“Why won’t you look at me?”

Seungcheol discards his pants on the floor and pulls on a pair of sweatpants. 

“If I look at you, I’ll get pissed off.” 

“I wish you would.”

There’s no winning with Jeonghan. Seungcheol sighs, eyebrows knitting in frustration. 

Jeonghan hums, seemingly happy that he got what he wanted, as Seungcheol climbs onto the bed. They situate themselves comfortably. Jeonghan inches down the bed and rests his head on Seungcheols lap. 

He is still deliriously drunk, but sober enough to know, to remember all this. 

Good. Seungcheol wants him to remember this part. 

“You know, I have dreams abo ~~ut wringing your neck~~ ,” He hovers a palm over Jeonghans throat. “Wait until you’re almost out of air, let you breathe for a second, and then snap your neck.”

“Why?” 

“Ever since you fucked that bastard, that's all I want to do when I look at you.” 

Jeonghan sits up, still swaying a little, he turns to Seungcheol with bloodshot eyes. 

“Looks like I finally got under your skin.”

“You live under my skin. Attached to my flesh like a parasite.” 

Jeonghan leans forward to kiss Seungcheol, long and sloppy. 

That pisses him off. 

He grabs Jeonghans throat, making him gasp in surprise. He peels him off his lap, gently holds, no pressure on the carotid arteries just yet. Jeonghans arms hang dead by his sides, head rolling, an indescribable look in his eyes. He gets so pliant and submissive when you grab him like that.

Seungcheol leans forward so that his lips are touching Jeonghans ear. He applies some pressure. 

“What are you, Jeonghan?”

“A cunt.”

A familiar smile tickles Seungcheols mouth. 

“Who’s cunt are you?”

“Y-yours.” 

~~~

“Are you just gonna sit there?” He asks. 

Seungcheol hums, before cocking his head forward to look at him. A shiver goes through Jeonghan at his unfocused eyes. They don’t look big and lovely how they usually do, they’re a little mean, like they’re gazing through him. 

“You look really pretty like that, Jeonghan.” Seungcheol mumbles before taking another long hit of the joint. “Too pretty for me.”

Jeonghans breath hitches as he runs his palm over his groin again. The panties feel nice and soft, almost as if they aren’t even there, but the little touches and brushes against his sensitive skin are arousing him. Seungcheol looking at him like that makes him throb. He takes a shuddery breath and climbs off the bed, crawling toward Seungcheol on all fours, looking at him with big needy eyes. 

Seungcheol watches him make his way over, with lips quirked curiously, until Jeonghan is kneeling in front of him between his legs. 

“I got all dressed up for you.” Jeonghan ruffles the angel wings he put on. “Are you just gonna keep looking?”

Seungcheol leans down with a small grin, eyes still a little mean. He cups Jeonghans chin in his fingers moving his face around. Jeonghan holds eye contact, clearly wanting. 

Seungcheol raises his eyebrows, taking in Jeonghans expression, the glitter running down his face, the muted light dancing in shadows on his cheeks, before letting go and leaning back against the chair again. 

“Sorry.” He takes another drag and then rests his boot clad foot on Jeonghans lap. 

A knot of shame twists up inside Jeonghans stomach at the action but it somehow shoots a load of arousal down his spine into a painful throb of his dick. He gasps as Seungcheol applies pressure and looks at him. 

“You ever come on a pair of Balenciagas?” Seungcheol asks fairly seriously. 

His mean eyes are taking in the view of Jeonghan greedily, there’s glitter that Jeonghan spilled all messy in his hair. The room goes blurry for a second as Jeonghans eyes focus on the sparkles. 

Then on his own, he leans back on his hands, rutting up against the sole of Seungcheols boot. His mouth hangs open, jolts of hot electricity coarse through him. He whimpers a little pathetically, eyes once again going to gaze at Seungcheol, frustrated at how this bizarre action is filling him up with lust, making his mouth hang open as that ecstasy courses through his body with its second last shudder. It must have been laced with something because Jeonghan is more horny than usual and the way his head is spinning makes him want to not do anything else, just come undone under Seungcheol, like it’s all he was born to do. 

Seungcheol looks beautiful in the haze. Jeonghan tilts his head unable to tear his eyes away from Seungcheols unfocused gaze on him as he takes another long drag of his joint. 

A shudder of pure pleasure courses through him. Jeonghan adjusts so he’s off his knees, instead lying back on his elbows and starts humping faster, a little desperate. Seungcheol pushes down harder, creates more pressure as the rough sole of his boot catches on Jeonghans panties. 

Jeonghan gasps, back arching off the carpet, ticklish angel wings fluttering against his shoulders, eyebrows scrunching as he stares at the ceiling fan spinning round and round and round and round and roundand roundandround and round and roundand roundandroundandroundandrounfandroundandroundansroundandroundroundandroundandroundandrounfandroundandroundansroundandround

His eyes dart to Seungcheol watching over him, like he’s watching him die. 

The built up knot in his body gives way as an orgasm rocks Jeonghan. He comes in weak spurts, heaving and moaning softly. He swallows and exhales with a little groan, gasping as he lies down on his back, one hand comes down to gently stroke his sensitive cock.

He lifts his head to peek at Seungcheol. He’s standing up, the top of his right shoe is covered in sticky come, decidedly ruined. A pang of humiliation goes through Jeonghan and he breathes out as it manifests into a churning in his lower abdomen and then to his softening dick. His body bucks one final time. 

Seungcheol stands over him, feet on either side of his waist, he leans down to leave a little peck on Jeonghans nose and then hands him the joint. He straightens up and walks off toward the dresser by the wall. 

Jeonghan takes a few breaths to steady his breathing and then takes a hit, letting it swirl up above and disperse as he watches Seungcheol pull off his top. 

He’s always been so well built and broad, just the view makes Jeonghan shiver as he shifts on the floor, ignoring how the bands of his angel wings are digging into his shoulder blades, he watches silently, taking infrequent drags of the roll. 

Seungcheols back is covered in strange marks. A few bruises decorate his torso like blueberries scattered on kitchen tiles. Jeonghan licks his dry lips. The most strange one is an oddly shaped scar at his shoulder. He has to wonder how Seungcheol got it but the thought makes him upset and he can’t have that right now. He takes a long hit, to the point where the smoke entering his system makes him cough on the exhale. He sniffs and keeps looking, one hand still idly in his panties, touching the come wetting his groin with delicate fingers. 

He takes another drag, pupils shaking, trying to keep the room from getting too pink and too blurry. 

Seungcheol is tying an unused condom around his bicep, wrapping it around with one hand and tightening it with his teeth. He then rips open a little alcohol pad and wipes down the crook of his elbow. 

Jeonghan closes his eyes for a second, breathing out softly. He must have gotten something from the party, didn’t want to try it there. When he opens his eyes, the syringe is already in Seungcheols arm and he’s pushing down the stopper deliberately and slowly, exhaling softly as it hits the hilt. 

“I was in a shitty mood today.” Seungcheol says as he tosses the syringe in the trash and undoes his tourniquet. 

“Did me acting like a whore cheer you up?” Jeonghan asks. 

“Acting?” Seungcheol looks at him as he takes off his nice Rolex and places it on the dresser. “Jeonghan, you _are_ a whore.” 

A second of silence passes before they burst into chuckles. Seungcheol runs a hand through his hair, looking at Jeonghan with those lovely pretty eyes again. 

Jeonghan giggles into his hand as Seungcheol makes his way over, taking the joint from him, it’s getting closer to being a nub now. He takes a hit and then puts it out in the palm of his hand. Jeonghan winces at that. 

Seungcheol picks him up bridal style and goes to the mattress, laying him down gently before unbuttoning his pants and stepping out of them onto the bed. 

.

Jeonghan must gaze at his own front door for too long. His body on its own propels him forward, as if it’s trying to betray him, saying _look what he did! Look what depraved behavior he subjected me to!_

It must have some sort of muscle memory, must be keenly aware that the owner of this body is not him. It pushes in the great big door with the artistic glass panes on it and forces him to walk in. 

“S-sorry.” Jeonghan blurts out, without checking to see who is listening. “I meant to come back last night but I fell asleep.” 

Mr. Yoon comes out into the parlor at his voice. It’s a big parlor, nice, crisp, modern, but it feels suffocating. Just arsenic in the air. 

No greeting, no nothing, just quick footsteps advancing on him like he can hear the accusations Jeonghans body is silently shouting. 

“You know how I feel about you being out of the house past midnight, Jeonghan.” That disappointing trill to his voice makes Jeonghans insides burn. 

“I-I know. I’m sorry.” Jeonghan looks down, feeling like Mr.Yoon already knows his nasty secret. “But it was Doyoons 21st birthday, I didn’t want to leave early-”

“Not nearly sorry enough.” 

The back of Jeonghans neck shivers with goosebumps. 

Mr.Yoon once again starts at his hair. It’s messier than he would like, that is clear from how he’s grimacing at it, he moves to Jeonghans face. Their eyes don’t meet but Jeonghan can’t help but stare at how critical and thorough they are in looking at him. He hates it. It makes his skin crawl, it makes him feel like his heart is going to shut down. He wishes it would. 

He gently drags an index finger across Jeonghans jaw. 

Mr Yoon then goes down his neck, to his collarbone that is peeking out from under his sweater. His eyes harden at the corners as he pulls down the hem of Jeonghans collar with a single finger. 

“Explain to me what I’m looking at, Jeonghan.” He asks quietly. 

Jeonghans breath hitches. He was careful. Seungcheol was careful not to leave any marks, any evidence, anything. Jeonghan had showered twice in the morning, double, triple checked in the bathroom mirror. He had made sure to spray his own cologne, the tiny bottle of it that stays on Seungcheols side table. 

“I-I...what?” 

“What do you suppose your fans would think if they saw how you look right now?”

“I-...I look fine, what are you talking about-“

Mr.Yoons eyes snap up to lock with Jeonghans and he immediately falls silent. 

“What would your investors say?”

“I’m sorry.” His body betrays him again, his mouth speaks on its own. “I-I’m sorry.” 

His legs start to tremble, hands curl into fists, breath threatens to pour into sobs. He’s disappointed his father. Oh, he feels so terrible about it. Hopefully, he won’t tell Mrs.Yoon. She’d be heartbroken. 

“I’m s-sorry.” He whimpers out. 

Mr.Yoon releases his hold on the collar of Jeonghans sweater with a click of his tongue. 

“I’m sorry.” He tries again, tears pricking his eyes, blurring his vision. 

A strange smirk tickles the edges of Mr.Yoons lips. 

“For what?”

“For…for-I…” Jeonghans breath is barely coming out, as if his body has decided that as long as he doesn’t tell the truth to its owner, he doesn’t deserve the privilege of air. 

Mr.Yoon waits, looking at him in a way that makes Jeonghan want to kill himself. He hates that Mr.Yoon is not asking directly, like he’s sure Jeonghan will just admit to everything on his own. His eyebrows raise in surprise when he doesn’t. 

“Do you know what Choi does to that mutt son of his when he steps out of line?”

_Yes._

“N-no.”

A few seconds of silence. 

“I think I’ll keep you on a tighter leash from now on.” He tells him once he realizes Jeonghan won’t choke out a response. 

He’s looking at that mark on Jeonghans collarbone. The one Jeonghan is so sure doesn’t exist but he will have to rush up to a mirror to check, just to make sure. 

Mr.Yoons lips curl in disgust. 

The spots on his body where Seungcheols lips kissed start to grow cold and itchy. If Jeonghan closes his eyes he can feel the electricity dim. 

Jeonghan leans forward, eyes blown wide, as he gawks at the mirror. 

There’s nothing there. There’s nothing there. It’s all clean. Nothing, no marks, there’s nothing there. No. There’s something. Something is there. A mark. A mark on his pure skin. No. No, there’s nothing there. There’s nothing there at all. No marks. No bruises. No bites. No scratches. There’s nothing there. Something is there. There is a mark. Someone left a mark on his body. There is something. No there is nothing. There is something. A mark. No- Is there? 

A sob breaks over Jeonghan as he clutches the bathroom counter, unable to tear his eyes from his face, trying to figure out what his father saw on that clear expanse of skin that repulsed him, trying to figure out what everyone sees. Trying to figure out what sin he committed that he must live like this. 

Messy tears run down his face, and he tries to get them to stop. His mother says he looks ugly when his eyes are red and swollen. 

He sinks to his knees, digging his phone out of his pocket, clicking through contacts as fat tears drop onto the screen. He hits _call_ and raises the phone to his ear. 

“ _Hello?”_

Jeonghans sobs rack through him harder. 

“ _Jeonghan? What’s wrong?”_

Seungcheol inhales shakily. 

“ _Jeonghan, calm down. It’s okay. Everything’s okay.”_

Jeonghan has to slap his hand over his mouth, if he’s too loud, someone will come barging in. He makes a primal desperate sound in his throat, his body keening over, face almost to the floor, hoping childishly that he will come for him. 

“ _Jeonghan? J-just breathe with me, okay?”_ Seungcheols voice trembles. 

Audible slow breaths come through the speaker and Jeonghan tries to match them as best he can, until his body no longer hitches and threatens to fall apart on him. 

“ _It’s okay, love.”_ Seungcheol says softly. “ _You’re okay.”_

~~~

He gets another call about 1AM just as he is about to fall asleep. Jeonghan is tucked in his arms, tired out, even breathing indicating deep sleep. 

“Hello?” 

_“The benefit was bad, in case you were wondering_.” 

“I wasn’t.”

A frustrated sigh. 

“ _He comes crawling back to you and you say “fuck all” to everyone else_ ? _I would have understood if Doyoon was still in the picture but at this point you’re both just hurting yourselves.”_

He says it as if he thinks Seungcheol enjoys hurting himself. 

Seungcheol sags into the bedsheets, one hand smoothing down Jeonghans shoulder. 

“Goodbye, Jihoon.” 

“ _Seungcheol-”_

He tosses his phone to the side and looks at the brown circles in his palm, shudders as a blip of how he got his first one flashes in his mind and then closes his eyes with a frown. 

His trouble was very direct, straightforward, curt and raw. Much like Seungcheol himself. Jeonghans trouble was more twisted, all consuming. Much like Jeonghan himself. 

Put it together and what is the thing you're left with? Is it love? No. Not enough kindness between the two of them for it to be love. 

Seungcheol is not a kind man. H̶̳̔̾͒͘͠e̸͓͈̱̱̼̙͝ ̶̨̅m̴̥̤̙͑͌̂ư̷̪̄̏̔̕̚͝s̵̱͐̊͠t̶̮̮͔̖͍̹͎̃̎͋̅ ̸̧͔̯̾̔̉ǧ̵̢̝̭̜̬̔̀̅̽ë̵͓͍͔̊̓̚͜ṫ̵̥̘̌̊͑ ̷̜̱̈́̂͛̈́͆i̸̬̎t̶̰̣̎̋̋͝ ̸̨̞̲̩͕͒̓͝f̶̤̠̼̈̇̋̒ř̵̩̟͌̑̋̔̈́͝ǒ̴͕̯̖̮̲̖͜m̷̟̙̭̫̍̕̚ ̷̬̲͗̐͑̕ḩ̴̭̯̘͆̑͜ͅï̴̹̠̇̈̈́s̸̼̖̊͒̃̓ ̵̝͠f̸̻̥͛̓͒å̴̛̳̜͠t̵̡̛̛̞͇̙̯͂̿̉͠h̴͖̼̦̃̎̏͘͝è̷̛͎̘̳̌̍͌͑r̷͔̦̻̝͖̮͚̂̽̊͐͛̀.̷̛͓̺̩͗ ̸̢͔̖̘͇̬͋̽͆͋̚

Sometime around 3AM, Seungcheol is still miserably awake, staring at the ceiling with heavy eyes. Jeonghan stirs, humming in his throat, before groggily sitting up. 

He comes into view, beautiful sad eyes, laced with sleep, slow breathing, slow movements, injecting Seungcheol with a morphine of sorts. 

“Why awake?” He asks softly. 

“Can’t sleep.” 

Jeonghan rests a palm on Seungcheols cheek, lips twitching with some words at the tip of his tongue. Alas, he doesn’t say them. Seungcheol lets himself get lost in Jeonghans eyes, staring with reverence, like he is awestruck in the presence of a god. 

“What are you thinking?” Seungcheol mumbles. 

Jeonghan leans up and kisses him softly, both their eyes remain open.

“I had a realization.”

“What?”

“I ruin the things that are good for me.” 

Seungcheol stays silent, questioning. Jeonghan sits up, more awake. 

“It's weird to think about. Sometimes I get close to it. To being able to stop thinking about you. I need you when I’m so close to being _fine_ . Like I’m afraid of being _fine._ And instead, I start needing to feel the fucked up way I feel when I’m with you.”

“Is that why you’re here?” Seungcheol asks quietly. “Wanna make sure I stay fucked up too?”

Jeonghan just laughs bitterly, drawing circles on Seungcheols chest. 

“You’re my husband, love. Of course I need you. And you need me.” 

He sounds sad at the realization. 

Jeonghan lays his head back down on the pillow, eyes looking too innocent for Seungcheols liking. 

“I’m so lonely without you. But I’m even more lonely when I’m with you.” Jeonghan whispers staring at the ceiling, studying the ceiling fan hanging above them. 

“Do you think I enjoy being with you?” Seungcheol asks quietly. “You think you’re the fuckin light of my life or something?”

Jeonghans breath stutters as he closes his eyes. 

Seungcheol pinches his nose bridge, sighing, trying to loosen the vice that stays wrapped around him. The vice that keeps everything wrapped up so neatly, the only thing stopping everything from coming apart at the seams. 

He wonders if that little disgusting thing has always been inside him. This sick twisted monster churning in his stomach waiting for the right moment to bloom. Was he always like that? Convinced he was about to fall off the deep end, lose his temper, his humanity. Brown circles on his hand start to buzz. 

It can’t be helped. A child raised through violence knows only that. Knows only cigarettes put out in palms and empty guns pointed at brains. 

“Have I ever hurt you?”

Jeonghan at first scoffs and then laughs bitterly.

“No never. You only love me. So _so_ much.”

“And you still left me.”

“And I kept waiting for the day when I could stop needing you.” Jeonghan replies, hands coming up to shield his face, hiding the wobble of his lips. 

He forces a laugh, high pitched and manic.

“But it never came! I waited days, months, a full year! It never came!” He shrieks. “A day when I could look at your face and not feel this gut wrenching loneliness inside me.” 

“And what did you do to me?”

“I l-loved you-”

“You left me to die. Like a rotting corpse.” 

Jeonghan pulls back his hand, eyebrows knitting, lips quivering.

“Kiss me.” The command comes.

Seungcheol obliges. As he always has, as he always will. That swirling black thing in his stomach settles, for some reason it only does when Jeonghan touches him. 

“Do you love me, Seungcheol?”

  
  
“I’ve always loved you, Jeonghan.”

Jeonghan forces a wobbly smile, eyes getting glossier by the second.

**It hurts when you say it.**

“I think you need to redecorate.” Jeonghan goes back to staring at the ceiling. 

Seconds of silence pass. He covers his face again, an inevitable sob chokes out of him.

Seungcheol hums, also looking up to stare at the ceiling fan. It has that strange campy feel of things from 2008. He should replace it with something simpler. 

Once again that little thing inside him starts to bubble, threatening to spill out, threatening to do something violent. 

“Are you going to hurt me?” 

“I don’t know.” 

Jeonghan exhales, clearing his throat. He moves his hands off his face. Bloodshot golden eyes come into view. Seungcheol is once again rendered speechless.

“Do you want to?”

  
  


~~~

When he staggers backstage for the final time, ripping his earpiece out as he stomps down the steps he slows as he sees a familiar figure standing and waiting for him. He doesn’t need to ask how Seungcheol got back here with no ticket and no affiliation to the venue or company. Not when The Choi Group has control over almost every industry, second only to the Yoons. As long as Mr.Yoon isn’t here, Seungcheol is untouchable. 

He’s limping, though. 

“You were lovely out there.” Seungcheol comes right up to him, with his face only a few inches apart. 

Jeonghan has to wonder. He tries not to because it makes him so upset just to think about it but he has to wonder. Seungcheol is wearing a cap, pulled all the way down to his eyebrows, a black face mask that is covering almost his whole face, jacket is zipped all the way up, the black turtleneck underneath only allows just a millimeter of the pale skin right below his jaw to be visible. He has both hands shoved deeply into his pockets. 

Jeonghan has to wonder. His heartbeat rams against his chest like his filthy soul is trying to escape him. He pulls Seungcheol in for a hug, wrapping his arms around his neck. 

Seungcheol makes a sound of pain in his throat and exhales sharply before taking one hand out of his pocket to wrap it around Jeonghans waist, the other stays balled up close to him. 

Jeonghan has to wonder. That sound makes him wonder. 

“What happened?” He asks later when they’re at the apartment. 

It’s in the poorer areas of Seoul so it’s unlikely anyone from their social circle would come looking for them here. The only one who knows is Jeonghans manager, and he only knows so he can make sure no one else knows. Bless him. 

“What happened?” Jeonghan has to wonder. 

Seungcheol sighs and takes his cap off, one hand still shoved in his jacket pocket. 

A scratch. On the side of his forehead. Far too deep and perfectly placed for it to have been some accident. 

“It’s okay. I’m okay.” Seungcheol assures unconvincingly. “I just ran into some trouble at a deal.” 

Those mysterious dealings. That’s what they call them. Strange meetings behind closed doors. Jeonghan has never been privy to one but the thought of it makes him wonder.

Jeonghans eyebrows knit, feels a strange invisible power around him pull uncomfortably as he reaches out and gently lowers Seungcheols mask off his face to reveal a cut on his lip, and a nasty purple mark on his cheek. 

Jeonghan goes rigid.

He doesn’t realize the tears are already coming out of his eyes until Seungcheol swipes underneath them with a frown. 

“Don’t worry about me so much, Jeonghan.” He tells him. 

How cruel of him to say that. Jeonghans chest hitches, breathing as if for the first time. 

“Your hand.” He says, gesturing with his chin to the hand that has not left Seungcheols pocket. 

“Love-“

“What happened to your hand?” Jeonghan asks angrily, feeling cotton leak out of his eyes and wet his face. 

Seungcheols eyesbrows knit and then he relents. As he always has for Jeonghan. 

“Had a meeting with some Japanese investors.”

He mulls over his thoughts, his gaze flitting over Jeonghans face. The bruise on his cheek is really a magnificent royal color, looks very pretty in the contrast of his pale skin. Jeonghan hates it. 

“Do you know what yubitsume is?”

Jeonghan only knows Mr. Choi is a cruel man. He hurts for sport. He has seen it with his own eyes. That flash of pure depravity in his expression. He sees that expression on very few people. Sick people. If he looks carefully enough, he sees a small glimmer of it in Seungcheols face too. 

Regardless, Jeonghan hasn’t heard that word before. 

“Does it hurt?” Jeonghan asks, loathing how naive he sounds. 

Seungcheol shrugs. 

“A little.”

Jeonghan inhales sharply before sinking to his knees and kneeling in front of Seungcheol, eyebrows bent as a headache pulses hard and fast, almost making his eyes pop out of their sockets. He looks up at him pleading. 

Seungcheol sighs. 

"I-"

"What happened?" He lets out, teeth gritted. 

Seungcheol sighs, reaches out a shaky hand to smooth down Jeonghans messy hair. He doesn't answer and that infuriates Jeonghan but also makes him more sad. 

"F-fuck you." Jeonghan looks up to see Seungcheols eyes glazed over as he stares at nothing. "What happened? Please tell me."

His eyes have that small glimmer of wickedness in them. 

"I just said something I shouldn't have, it's nothing."

The word _yubitsume_ rings in his head. 

He rests his cheek on Seungcheols knee, chest hitching with small sobs. He hates it. 

"Do you ever think about disappearing?" Seungcheol asks quietly. 

Jeonghan does. A lot. But for some reason a painful electric shock jolts through him at the thought. Like his body is punishing him for briefly having such a thought. 

"I think about it all the time." Seungcheol says simply. “I feel like I wasn’t meant to be here.”

Sometimes Jeonghan wonders if he has a soul or if he's just a clump of cotton encased in plastic. 

"At least when you’re here, I don’t want to disappear." 

Jeonghan inhales painfully, pressing his face into Seungcheols thigh and wailing. He's silent briefly, long enough to hear the sound of a sob break through Seungcheol. 

"It hurts. A-a lot."

It hurts like I’m dying. 

**It hurts like I’m dying.**

**It hurts like I’m dying. It hurts like I’m dying. It hurts like I’m dying. It hurts like I’m dying. It hurts like I’m dying. It hurts like I’m dying. It hurts like I’m dying. It hurts like I’m dying. It hurts like I’m dying. It hurts like I’m dying. It hurts like I’m dying. It hurts like I’m dying. It hurts like I’m dying. It hurts like I’m dying. It hurts like I’m dying. It hurts like I’m dying. It hurts like I’m dying. It hurts like I’m dying. It hurts like I’m dead-**

.

Seungcheol said he would only be a few minutes. So when 30 minutes pass and a man with a strange expression in a pressed suit comes down to fetch him from the lobby, Jeonghans anxiety skyrockets. He heads down the hall, the clack of his own shoes threatening to drive him insane as he is led into a conference room of this sketchy ass building. 

He is greeted by a few men sitting around a table. They look up and see him, eyes going up and down, up and down his figure, staring lewdly. Jeonghan knows what those stares mean. He has always known, he has been subject to those stares many times but the accompanying nausea never gets any better. 

“Mr.Choi, I didn’t know there would be a musical performance tonight.” Someone remarks cheekily. 

Jeonghans eyes go to the man sitting at the head of the table. He’s only ever seen Seungcheols father once before this. All he can seem to notice is the bruises on his knuckles and the gold bands on his fingers. He has to blink his eyes into focus and he sees Seungcheol sitting by his side, head bent down, the edges of his eyes hard as he stares at the table. 

Jeonghan forces himself to bow politely, tries to put on that smile his choreographer makes him practice for hours in the mirror. 

_No, lift the left corner of your mouth a little higher._

_Eyes a little wider, I want to see that twinkle in them._

_Eyebrows raised, not too much. Oh, you look so perfect like that!_

_I wish I could keep your face like that permanently._

It’s muscle memory at this point, really. 

“Jeonghan, I wanted to invite you to sit in on this deal.” Mr. Choi speaks up. “I know you are close with my son, so I thought it would be good for you both to experience it.” 

“I see. That’s very kind.” Jeonghans voice on its own tends to come out a tone higher when he’s nervous. “I hope I’m not interrupting.” 

He is. Everyone in this room is distracted right now. By him. He’s being a nuisance. He can’t figure out why Mr. Choi wants him here. He knows it’s not because of what he said. Seungcheols silence is not of much help. 

Mr. Choi gestures for him to sit down on his left side, a few chairs down, next to a man who is looking at him like he’s a piece of meat. 

Mr.Choi says something, pulls a cigarette out of his breast pocket. People laugh. Jeonghan looks at Seungcheol who is silently lighting it for Mr.Choi.

1, 2, 3 flick. 

And the rest, Jeonghan forces himself to forget. 

Vulgar words. 

Stacks of money. 

Men taking turns on a pretty woman. 

And then on a pretty man. 

They go back to the woman, holding up her skinny body. 

Seungcheol holds a shaking hand out to Mr.Choi who presses his cigarette deep and hard into his palm. 

Smoke and burnt skin turns into faded brown circles. 

Someone gropes Jeonghans crotch under the table. 

~~It makes him hard.~~

Seungcheol only says one sentence to him throughout the whole ordeal. 

“G̷̻̰̒è̷̹̩͛t̶͉̼͎͎̬̝͛͆͗̓͑͝ ̸͚͇̅͘ǒ̷̼u̷͚̞͆̽̓ͅt̶̜̫̼̪̅̓͌̂͠ ̵͖̩͐̎̚ő̷̟̹̦̍̈͐͐͝f̴̡̙̦̔ ̵̳̩̜͕̭̌̏̂͛h̸̛̙̺͖̅͜͜e̴͕̟͂̋r̷̠̠̠̖̞̔e̶̲̰̼͓̻̽,̷̧͔̥͛̏̈͝ ̴̡͈̠̹̼̎͂̋J̴͓͙̫̻̈̎͘͝e̵̺̞̞̙̬̠͐ö̴̦́̐͑̀̔̓n̵͈̘͉͋̾̿͠g̷̛̝̈́́͆͝͝ḣ̸̡̭͔͉̳a̶͔̩̖͑͊͜͜n̷̠̯̲̲͙̾.”

His voice has a strange demonic tone to it. It doesn’t sound like him at all. His eyes are sad and pleading but. But. But that depravity is there, swimming under the surface. 

  
  


~~~~

Seungcheol falls asleep, Jeonghans head resting on his chest, feeling his faint soothing heartbeat. Like he is in a trance. Jeonghan stirs briefly and wakes up. He shifts up to put his head on Seungcheols shoulder and mumbles something quietly. 

Maybe they’ll both die tomorrow. 

He dreams a terrible dream, suffocating like there are vines growing in his lungs and flowers coming out of his mouth. He walks through a barren forest at the devil's hour and meets a woman 10 feet tall. She is wearing liquid gold and she puts her hands over his eyes like a Smith and Wesson. Model 19. She shows him in overwhelming flashes images both violent and beautiful; grotesque animalistic creatures crawling and slipping in mud, small pink things with sad eyes, trapped in tiny cages, crouching, dehumanized, screams rising into the sky like an orchestra. The stimulation of these images gives Seungcheol whiplash, threatening to make him vomit everywhere. The 10 foot tall woman is holding him by the hair, roughly forcing him to look. She has tied his hands behind his back with rope made of steel. Seungcheol gasps desperately in her hold, unable to tear his eyes away from what he sees. 

For a split second he thinks he sees Jeonghan. Jeonghan with long brunette hair, caked in mud, with sad sad tears running down his face, as he clutches the bars where he is caged, screaming out for Seungcheol so desperately. 

But, but, but before he can make sure, he hears the click of a Smith and Wesson Model 19 behind his head and awakes with a wet sob. 

He blinks, trying to bring the world back into focus. 

Jeonghan is up, leaning over him with teary eyes. Oh, he looks so pretty like that. 

But Seungcheol feels like he can’t breathe. He blinks rapidly, trying to force oxygen in and out. It barely fills his lungs like that parasite inside him is trying to squeeze all the air out from him. He closes his eyes with a pained gasp. He refuses to die just yet. It’s not the right time. 

“Darling?” Jeonghans voice shakes. “You...are you okay?” 

Seungcheol sits up to a pounding in his head, eyes still closed. Afraid that if he opens them he might see Jeonghans ethereal face covered in mud, with painful sloppy tears coming out his eyes as he keens for Seungcheol. 

“Darling?” Jeonghan calls again. “Seungcheol look at me, baby.” 

He nods, clutching his neck with his gritted teeth, and cracking his eyes open. A soft hand comes to rest on his cheek, bringing it to face Jeonghan. There’s tears running down his face like liquid gold. He unconsciously raises his hand to touch one. 

“Seungcheol, you were screaming very loud.” Jeonghan tells him, eyes blown wide. “Are you okay?” 

Seungcheol let’s himself relax, tries to smooth out that edge that’s always pinching at his back like needles. 

He leans forward and indulges Jeonghan with a long kiss, ignoring the trembling of his own lips, ignoring the cold wetness that transfers from Jeonghans cheeks to his. 

They separate. 

“Let me hold you?” Jeonghan asks. 

He must look miserable because Jeonghan is looking at him like he’s seen a ghost. 

Seungcheol nods, rests his cheek on Jeonghans chest, letting him card his fingers through his knotted hair, melting into the touch but keeping his eyes blown open to make sure he doesn’t fall asleep again. 

Jeonghans chest rises softly with the inhale to speak. 

“I wish you’d tell me what’s bothering you, love.” 

He requests it so sincerely, Seungcheol can’t help but oblige. 

“Have you ever had a gun pointed at your brain?” 

Jeonghan stays silent. His arms around Seungcheol are gentle. 

“Smith and Wesson. Model 19.” Seungcheol continues. “He left it to me in his will.” 

Jeonghans breath hitches. 

They lay back down into bed. Seungcheol digs his face into Jeonghans chest, snaking his arms around his waist. Jeonghan adjusts, still keeping a gentle hand in Seungcheols hair, swinging his leg over Seungcheols hip, encasing him protectively. 

“I love you.”

“I love you too.” 

He thinks and he wonders. There's nothing left for him here. All there is is Jeonghan. That’s all he needs. He loves him as much as he hates him. 

What exactly is he looking for? Is there a solution to any of this? Or is the only answer to end it?

.

The air is crisp at this time of night. Or morning? The sky is that rich blue color it becomes at dawn, before rays of orange begin to peek over the horizon line. Every now and then, it rains lightly. 

Seungcheol is blowing cigarette smoke into the air, leaning over the railing of their big terrace, wondering and wondering. Eyes so tired but he can’t close them. He’s never understood why blue is the color associated with sadness. Blue to him looks like all the things he can never have. Sadness is more like a dirty grey. Bleak. Exhausted.

“You didn’t sleep at all?” A quiet voice comes from behind him. 

Seungcheol turns around to see Jeonghan standing in the glass paneled doorway, hair messy, eyes fighting to stay open. He has ditched the clothes he came here in last night, wearing instead one of Seungcheols old sweaters with boxers underneath. He wraps his arms around himself and waddles to Seungcheols side. 

“I didn’t mean to wake you up.” Seungcheol says. 

“It’s fine.” Jeonghan says with a resigned sigh. 

They stay in silence for a while. Dark blue turns to light blue. The world is still asleep. 

Seungcheol takes a drag of his cigarette and then offers it to Jeonghan. Jeonghan takes it with a shaking hand, eyebrows furrowed. His migraines must be acting up again. 

“I don’t remember much of last night.” Jeonghan mumbles, going to take a rip of the cig. “Did we fuck?”

“You passed out with my dick halfway down your throat.” Seungcheol says. 

“And you kept going?”

“I did.”

Jeonghan snorts, blowing a wisp of smoke. 

“I think-”

“I-”

Seungcheol gestures for him to continue. 

“Go ahead.” Jeonghan turns it back to him. 

Seungcheol sighs. 

“I think we have it easier in a different life.” 

“I think this is as good as it gets for people like us.” 

“So where does it end?” Seungcheol turns to him. 

He watches the corners of Jeonghans eyes harden, sees the change in his expression, the split second in which he makes the decision, and then he has pressed the end of the cigarette into his palm. He hears the fizz of burning skin, the squeak that forces out of Jeonghans throat.

But in a quick movement, unfazed somehow, Seungcheol grabs a hold of Jeonghans wrist and pries the cigarette out of his hand, whipping it off the balcony. 

He looks out over the garden, their garden. Seungcheols has been doing his best to keep it alive but it seems hellbent on dying. Wilted flowers, buds that never blossom, and that swing that sways back and forth even when there's no wind. He looks back to his husband and watches his face contort into pain, palm quivering as a thin stream of blood trickles down from a scar of exposed flesh. 

“If you wanted a cigarette burn that bad, you could have asked me.” Seungcheols eyebrows knit. 

Jeonghan breathes hard. 

“I just w-wanted to know how much burns hurt.”

In their glossy sheen, Seungcheol sees his own reflection, sees a thousand days of sorrow and a half lived life, sees what he’s thinking himself. It always makes him shiver. Somehow they’re always on the same wavelength. Like some force billions of years ago decided that they would find each other over and over again to make each other suffer until they could find a way out. 

Seungcheol wonders, staring at the floor, watching a drop of rain splash on the tile. Is there a way out? More lazy drops fall. 

“I want to stop, Seungcheol.” Jeonghan whispers, echoing his thoughts. 

Something about seeing Jeonghan upset always paralyzes Seungcheol. He hates it more than anything, seeing him so sad. 

“I’m tired, Jeonghan.” His eyes glaze over. “So, so, so, so tired.” 

~~~~

“What is that?” Mr. Yoon almost hisses. 

Jeonghan looks back at him. He tries to do it the way he’s seen Seungcheol look back at the people who try to shrink him, unyielding. 

“It’s a wedding ring.” He says simply, the tremor is still in his voice. 

Mr. Yoon looks at him with one eyebrow raised, eyes blown wide and insane like a bloodthirsty animal. Jeonghan has to lock his knees so he doesn’t crumple to the ground. 

“Chois mutt?” 

“Yes.”

“What would people say? Your investors? Your fans would be devastated.” He says with an openly wicked smile. 

It’s a good thing Jeonghans head isn’t filled up with cotton anymore. 

“I don’t care what anyone thinks.” He hears himself say it. “I’m quitting.”

“Quitting?” Mrs. Yoon then walks into the driveway, drunkenly swaying on her feet. She’s been drinking every night since Jeonghan almost lit himself on fire in the yard. “You can’t quit, Jeonghan.”

Mr. Yoon is still looking at him with animalistic eyes, head tilted in honest confusion. 

“Who told you to do that?” He asks almost incredulously, taking a step forward. “The mutt? Has he put funny little thoughts in your head?”

Jeonghan takes a step back, miraculously his feet have not glued themselves to the ground. 

“N-no one told me anything.” He holds eye contact. “I _can_ and I _am_ quitting.” 

”You think you have a say in this.” Mr. Yoon tuts, hand reaching out to grab the one on which Jeonghan is wearing Seungcheols ring. “I’m the one who decides things for you. It sounds like you’ve forgotten.”

His grip is like steel. Jeonghans resolve threatens to melt, threatens to break him into a million pieces. Maybe that’s what he was before, just a few broken pieces being held up by this man like a marionette held up by a puppeteer, joints all wrong and twisted, a permanent expression of pain. It’s going to take forever to build himself into something real. 

“I̴̛̲̭̬̼̖̐̏͆́̈́̓̒̉͘̚͜͝ ̶̨͉̗̲̺̖̯͓͆̆̎͒̉͗͂̕͠s̷͎̪̐͐͑̕͠h̴̩̳̝̼̞͎̓͂͆͂̈́͑̇̊́̆̚͘͜͠ͅo̴̡̮̲͇̦̟̬̱̽̐͋̌̔́̅̓̂̉̎͌͊ù̵̧̡̧͚̳̬̰̜̰̪͖̗̓͜ͅl̸̝̦̯̫̈̑͝ḓ̶̢̲͉͎͍̖̜͙̈̾͆̓͒̽͐͑͘͝͠͝͝ ̷̢͚̹̖̜̱̌͒̿̈̇̈́͐͗́͋͘͠ͅḫ̵͈͖̝͎̝̔̔̓̍̅̂́̌͒̚̚̚ą̸̢̧͓̠͓̟̞̺̦̻͛̍̈́̅̊͌̒̀͝v̵̳͛͑ḙ̷̻̺͕̦̯̜̣̣͇͊̅̅̐̓͝͝͠ ̶̧̪̻̹̲̬͙̗̟̹͈̜̔̎̅͑͛͊͂͊͘͝͝f̶̥̻̗̦̲̹̳̥̮͔̙̝̈́͆̒̍̍̾̕i̸̯̫̥̥̋̓l̴͚̺̉̓l̸͓͛̊͛͠e̵̱͇̖͓͑̀̆̊̏͊͂̎̌̓̾d̵̢͕̲̲̲͍̜̝͍̹͈̖̰̲̄̋͛̊̈͜͝ ̴̧̮̲͍͇̎̅̽̔͋̈̐̄͝y̷̧̪̤̠̥͈̞̰̖͖̯͕̮̺̽͊̅̀̇͛́̎̈̑ő̵̡̦̋̌̑͊̍̓̊̈́̈́́͠u̴̺̠͒̌̒͐r̶̨̨̡̹͙̪̖̩͈̭̪̉͑ ̶͉̖̩̬̻̼̮̣͋̋̆͊͑͛̂̕ͅh̴̺̜̝̝̭̼̃̎͒̂͛̏̏̋̊͛͑̕̕͜ͅḙ̴̢̢̨̦̞̙̖̇̿͛̎̇̋̈́͒̌͋̀̋a̷͓̳̯͉̪̓̔̈́͗̈͛͛͠ͅḑ̵̡̧̱͕͍̪̩͈̦̙̮̖̣̃̅͛̑͆͊̾͐̒̓̒͌͜ ̷̙͉͖̿̓̄̌̃̈̀̂͌w̷̧̦͙̆̈͋̆̋͛̊͂̕ͅi̴̮͓͚͖̙̓̅̔͛̒̚ţ̶̧͔͚̱͓͖̬͓̝̪̌̌̈͝ḣ̸̡̡͎̰̲͚͑̋̋̇͂̄̄ͅ ̶̧̝͕̦̯̳͙̟̪̻̔̈́̉̚c̵̨̧̬̬̜̳̗̖̊̋̍̿͐̌͝ơ̶̗̲̩̇̑̃̔̏ţ̸͍̮͕̼̻̥̦̠͙̳̈t̸̨͓͍̘̦͉̘͕̘̲̙͔̑̏͜ơ̶̤͗͛̅̎͛̍̄̑͛́̋́̀ņ̸͍̳̙̣̦̺̜̫̻̲̱͖̓͝.” Mr.Yoon says. “That way no funny little thoughts can get in.” 

Jeonghan blinks before snatching his hand out of Mr.Yoons hold. He stumbles a few steps back and then stalks out of the estate. No one follows him and that makes him nervous, makes him think someone will be waiting in his car to slit his throat. 

He sits in the driver's seat, heaving. That happened so fast. So quick and simple. He was almost expecting to battle a giant monster with a sword. 

It takes some time to settle in. The feeling. This new feeling. A small smile spreads onto Jeonghans lips. 

  
  


~~~

So they get to work. 

Lock the doors, close the windows. 

Stuff cloth in between the cracks, cover the walls with newspaper, tape it all shut. 

And then sit on the floor in the middle of the living room, a trashcan between us, stuffing newspapers in, stuffing tabloids in, stuffing old clothes in, stuffing wires in. 

Seungcheol pulls out a cigar and his lighter, holding it up to his lips, puffing a few times to light it. Jeonghan sits opposite of him, knees hugged into his chest, staring at the floor, a glass of whiskey carelessly held in his hand. It has started raining very hard, banging violently against the covered windows that only slightly muffle the sound. The deep rich blue of the dawn has given way to a grey sky. 

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Seungcheol flicks his lighter once again, letting the edge of the flame tickle a piece of paper sticking out of the trashcan. 

I love you.

I love you too.

The paper begins to burn, spreading warm orange flame over everything, shadows dance on the walls. Grey smoke dances up in the air. 

I love you.

I love you too.

I love you.

I love you too.

I love you.

I love you too.

The smoke makes them both cough.

I love you.

I love you too.

I love you.

I love you too.

I love you.

I love you too.

I love you.

I love you too.

The world turns into that dirty grey. Exhausting miles of dirty grey.

I love you.

I love you too. 

I love you.

I love you too.

I love you.

I love you too.

I love you I 

I love you more than anyone.je t'aime I love you till my breathing stops.

love you too iloveyou

Ilove you too

I love youIloveyoutoo I love you.love you too iloveyoulove you too I love youIloveyoutoo I love you.I love you tooI love youje t'aime I I love you more than anyone. I love you till my breathing stops. je t'aime je t'aime je t'aime je t'aime je t'aime je t'aime je t'aime je t'aime je t'aime 

love you too iloveyou I love you more than anyone. I love you till my breathing stops.

love you too iloveyou Ilove you too I loveje t'aime youIloveyoutoo I love you.love you too iloveyoulove you too I love youIloveyoutoo I love you.I love you tooI love you I I love you more than anyone. I love you till my breathing stops.

love youje t'aime too iloveyou

Ilove you too

I love youIloveyoutoo 

I love you.

I love you too

I love you.

I love you till my breathing stops. 

Iloveyoutooiloveyoutooiloveyoutoo i love you i love you l̸̢͖͙̯̭͇̟̱̟̙̥͈̅̍̆́̿́̅̄͘o̶̠̭̬̳̐̈͌́̏̾v̴̙͔͉̱̱̘͕̤̪̬̔̈́͆͛͐̾̇̇̚͜͠e̵̯̊̿̀̈̽̂̍͂͗͑̚͝ ̶̖̏͐̽̅y̶̦̫͈̜̞̪̯̞̽̈́́̿͑͗̃́̎̒̒̚͜ỏ̷̧̨͚̤̟̜̦̟̄͝ṷ̵̪̗͔̬̹͚̪̒̐͂̒͂̐̆̎̍̿͐̃̕͝͝ ̵̠̩̫̠̫̲̘̻̞̹͓̺͌̅͑͋̒̅̐͐̃̕͝t̷̪͔̰͋̏ǫ̶̨̼̲̜̟̬͓̿͛̂͂̿̃̊ó̷̢̩̜̬͇͇̣̬̿͂͝ ̸̧̭͔͍̭͍̲̟̠͉̻̰͕̝͋̒͊̓̽̚ḯ̸̠̱̻͇͚̲̮̹͙͚̗͕͉́̈́̃̾̎͘̕ͅl̴̡̧̮̤͎̺͎̼̲̲̜̮̾̈o̴̧̥̻̞̹̞̫͈͍̰͙͎̊͗̓́͛̏͊̿̀̓̚v̴̡̡̧͈̝͚̺͓͍͕͎̩̉̏̓̃͋͐̓̆͜͜͠͝ể̷̻̊̂̑̕͝ÿ̶̯̻̼͓͖́̂͌̅͂̅͑̏̊̈͛ȯ̶̡̺͔͕͖̣͒͊͑̐ų̶̡̧̝̯̳̗͓̞͍͎͌̒̽̇͋̕͝

̷̨̰͙̤̜̰̣͈͇̪̳̰̯̏͑̇̐̔́̆̿͋͂͐͜ͅǏ̸̖̯̲̱̮͛̽̄͗̍̐͠l̴̛̩͊̄̑͒͊͂̃͊̒̍̿͂o̶̯͎͍̦̳͚͗̂ṿ̷͐͗̃͊͆͗͘e̵̫͕͖̞̾̍̌̆͊ ̷̢͎̻͈̩̳̞͗̂̃͆̈́͊̒͋̐͋̑͊̕̚͜͜ͅy̴̢̟̲̮̳̯̙̹̪͍̳̿̓͛̿̂͒͑̀͌̕͜͠o̴̡̬̱̖͊̔́͒̈́͋̈́̌̏́̓̚͜ú̴͇̱͈̳̻̟̳͇͇̼̅̈̕̕̕͘ ̸͙̜̥͕̥́̑̾̽̾͋̈́̋̓͝t̵̘̫͇̟̘͓̣͎͉̖͉̱͐̈́͂̄̎̊͂̋̌̇͊̏̀͠ơ̵̧̪̲͔̤̹̳̘̳͕͖͍̗̪̝̍̀͗̄͛͒͂͊̏͆͋̇̕o̵͉̠̤̜̻̯͎̥̤̗͑̍̾͝

̶̫͈̙͕̗͉̲̺͔͓̒͐͊͐ͅl̷̛̛͎̖̦͙̥̪͊̎͒͌̿̑̇͗̈͘o̸̙͙̝̞͓̝̓́̈́͂̉̋̋͌̆̇͠v̷̭̳̳̜̼̜̜̯̌̏̅́̊̆͗̎͑͘e̶͔̣̬̩̿̿́̊̅̌̏̋̈́ ̷̛̩̓̂̎͑̿̅͋̐̿̒̐̓͝y̴̟̜̖̯̰͔̝͓͍̙̦̓̈́̀̈͑̊͊͂̔͑͝͝ͅo̴̳̭͎̪͂̉͑̐̓ū̶̖͙͇͚́̈́̚͜ ̴͚̳̳͐̀̎͗̏̀̇͗̐̿̇̏̆̕͠t̶̯̋̽̾̾̾͐͊͑̌̓̾̒̽o̷̧̤̼̜̫͒͋͋̎̾̄o̷̺͙̩̕ ̸͈̠̪̯̳͒̃̂̕̕į̶̣̝̜͍̦̭̺̐̍̉͆͊̂͑̒͛͛̿͒͜l̶̳̗͔̖̠̖̬͎̯͉̬̊̇̈́͐ͅo̵̦̪͑v̶̛̫̣̹͚̘͈̉̽͋̈́̈́̔̌̄̐͋̚̕͠e̶̱̦̓͛͐̊ỹ̵̢̛̇̎̓͊̃͐̓̎o̷̧̢̹̘͍͍̰̟̻͍̩͗͊͛͘ṳ̵̷̳̫͇̫̩̺͕̰͇̪̖̤͔̩͚͓̤͚͓͙͍̫̓̎̑̌̐̇͊̈͐́͘͘̚͜͝͝Ȉ̷̧̗̥͔͖͓̻̟̘̮̦̲̆̄͗͐́̅̀l̷̛̤͔͔͎̘̪̊͛̍̍́̋̆̌͘ơ̴̟͍̼̯͇̫̦̭̮̤̥͎̑̏̒͛̋̿̆͒̈́̃̇̅͜͜͝v̴̨̞̮͖̣͌͆̕ĕ̴̲̫̻͉̟̘̓͐́͐͜ ̷̨̧̰͍̥̥̱͌̌̔̅̿́̂͑̍̐͑͌͂y̶͉̗̯̤̬̩̳̩̳̿̈̈́̆̌̃͐̃̂͝o̴̖̖̼̹̪̟̓̃̓u̴̧̖̲̻͋ ̵̤̥̙̩̻͙̙̺̮̙͈̀̄̆̋̃̅̿͘͜ͅṯ̴̡̭̺̘̟̬͉̲͕͚̭̑̕͜ô̴̬̟͈̭̥̰̬̫̠͇̋͑̽ͅö̶̥͇̖̝́̊̑͊̃͠

̵̢̭̰̻̖̤̪͕͕̬̙͕̪̔̽̍̒͜ͅỊ̵̢̨̲̣̜̗̮͈͇̣̳͍̅̔̍ ̴̻̬̝̗̳͇̱̒̾͌̅̒̿͛͂͘l̴̝̩̬͖̥̮̓̉͌́̒͆̀͒̋o̴̢̡̼͉̞̫̪͚͓̗̯͍͑̓̓̓͑͗̽͝ṿ̴̡̪̻͇͖͓̞̘̓͘ͅe̵̡͉̤̮̼̠̪͕̘̮͍̤͙͛̋̾̑̍̆̈́͑̃͘͘̚ ̷̛̘̲̼̗͈̘͔͈̰͂͊̈́̃̀̈̔͌̌̿͜y̶̗̰̥̫̬̮͇̿̑̑̋̋̓͆͆̏̋͆͋o̸̧̺͖̫̲̥̹̯̩͖͕̪̾̏͌̏̐́͂̊̿̾͌̓̕͜u̴̧͙͚̫͓̥̠̱̭̗̪̻͎̫̍̈́ͅÎ̶͉̳̻͕̹̂̊̋̏̎̎̉̎̓̈́͘͠l̸̻̩̹̞̠͛o̸͇̻̜͍̺͎̱̰̯̠̫̥̦͗͜v̷̨̖͚̟̟͑̑̅̇͌̚͝͝e̷͉̰͕͉̫͌́̐̓̇͝͠y̸̧͍̜͕͋̋͂̀̉̋̄̋͗͑̃͘ͅo̸̝̿̉̉̆̅͒͝ǔ̶͇̘͈͇̤͚̍͒͊͆̄̌̿̿̄͌̍͝͝ţ̶̩̖̖͂̒ͅǫ̵̨̛̛̟̪̮̦̗͎͔̭̍̋̐͊͜ͅơ̷̼͔͍̞̗̖̺̲̣̥͖̯̒̽͗̌͘̕͜͝ͅ ̴̷̨͚̺̯̘̗͓͚͙͈͇̪̹̰͙̤̜̰̣͈͇̪̳̰̯̏̏͑̇̐̔́̆̿͋͂͐͜ͅǏ̸̖̯̲̱̮͛̽̄͗̍̐͠l̴̛̩͊̄̑͒͊͂̃͊̒̍̿͂o̶̯͎͍̦̳͚͗̂ṿ̷͐͗̃͊͆͗͘e̵̫͕͖̞̾̍̌̆͊ ̷̢͎̻͈̩̳̞͗̂̃͆̈́͊̒͋̐͋̑͊̕̚͜͜ͅy̴̢̟̲̮̳̯̙̹̪͍̳̿̓͛̿̂͒͑̀͌̕͜͠o̴̡̬̱̖͊̔́͒̈́͋̈́̌̏́̓̚͜ú̴͇̱͈̳̻̟̳͇͇̼̅̈̕̕̕͘ ̸͙̜̥͕̥́̑̾̽̾͋̈́̋̓͝t̵̘̫͇̟̘͓̣͎͉̖͉̱͐̈́͂̄̎̊͂̋̌̇͊̏̀͠ơ̵̧̪̲͔̤̹̳̘̳͕͖͍̗̪̝̍̀͗̄͛͒͂͊̏͆͋̇̕o̵͉̠̤̜̻̯͎̥̤̗͑̍̾͝

̶̫͈̙͕̗͉̲̺͔͓̒͐͊͐ͅl̷̛̛͎̖̦͙̥̪͊̎͒͌̿̑̇͗̈͘o̸̙͙̝̞͓̝̓́̈́͂̉̋̋͌̆̇͠v̷̭̳̳̜̼̜̜̯̌̏̅́̊̆͗̎͑͘e̶͔̣̬̩̿̿́̊̅̌̏̋̈́ ̷̛̩̓̂̎͑̿̅͋̐̿̒̐̓͝y̴̟̜̖̯̰͔̝͓͍̙̦̓̈́̀̈͑̊͊͂̔͑͝͝ͅo̴̳̭͎̪͂̉͑̐̓ū̶̖͙͇͚́̈́̚͜ ̴͚̳̳͐̀̎͗̏̀̇͗̐̿̇̏̆̕͠t̶̯̋̽̾̾̾͐͊͑̌̓̾̒̽o̷̧̤̼̜̫͒͋͋̎̾̄o̷̺͙̩̕ ̸͈̠̪̯̳͒̃̂̕̕į̶̣̝̜͍̦̭̺̐̍̉͆͊̂͑̒͛͛̿͒͜l̶̳̗͔̖̠̖̬͎̯͉̬̊̇̈́͐ͅo̵̦̪͑v̶̛̫̣̹͚̘͈̉̽͋̈́̈́̔̌̄̐͋̚̕͠e̶̱̦̓͛͐̊ỹ̵̢̛̇̎̓͊̃͐̓̎o̷̧̢̹̘͍͍̰̟̻͍̩͗͊͛͘ṳ̵̷̳̫͇̫̩̺͕̰͇̪̖̤͔̩͚͓̤͚͓͙͍̫̓̎̑̌̐̇͊̈͐́͘͘̚͜͝͝Ȉ̷̧̗̥͔͖͓̻̟̘̮̦̲̆̄͗͐́̅̀l̷̛̤͔͔͎̘̪̊͛̍̍́̋̆̌͘ơ̴̟͍̼̯͇̫̦̭̮̤̥͎̑̏̒͛̋̿̆͒̈́̃̇̅͜͜͝v̴̨̞̮͖̣͌͆̕ĕ̴̲̫̻͉̟̘̓͐́͐͜ ̷̨̧̰͍̥̥̱͌̌̔̅̿́̂͑̍̐͑͌͂y̶͉̗̯̤̬̩̳̩̳̿̈̈́̆̌̃͐̃̂͝o̴̖̖̼̹̪̟̓̃̓u̴̧̖̲̻͋ ̵̤̥̙̩̻͙̙̺̮̙͈̀̄̆̋̃̅̿͘͜ͅṯ̴̡̭̺̘̟̬͉̲͕͚̭̑̕͜ô̴̬̟͈̭̥̰̬̫̠͇̋͑̽ͅö̶̥͇̖̝́̊̑͊̃͠

̵̢̭̰̻̖̤̪͕͕̬̙͕̪̔̽̍̒͜ͅỊ̵̢̨̲̣̜̗̮͈͇̣̳͍̅̔̍ ̴̻̬̝̗̳͇̱̒̾͌̅̒̿͛͂͘l̴̝̩̬͖̥̮̓̉͌́̒͆̀͒̋o̴̢̡̼͉̞̫̪͚͓̗̯͍͑̓̓̓͑͗̽͝ṿ̴̡̪̻͇͖͓̞̘̓͘ͅe̵̡͉̤̮̼̠̪͕̘̮͍̤͙͛̋̾̑̍̆̈́͑̃͘͘̚ ̷̛̘̲̼̗͈̘͔͈̰͂͊̈́̃̀̈̔͌̌̿͜y̶̗̰̥̫̬̮͇̿̑̑̋̋̓͆͆̏̋͆͋o̸̧̺͖̫̲̥̹̯̩͖͕̪̾̏͌̏̐́͂̊̿̾͌̓̕͜u̴̧͙͚̫͓̥̠̱̭̗̪̻͎̫̍̈́ͅÎ̶͉̳̻͕̹̂̊̋̏̎̎̉̎̓̈́͘͠l̸̻̩̹̞̠͛o̸͇̻̜͍̺͎̱̰̯̠̫̥̦͗͜v̷̨̖͚̟̟͑̑̅̇͌̚͝͝e̷͉̰͕͉̫͌́̐̓̇͝͠y̸̧͍̜͕͋̋͂̀̉̋̄̋͗͑̃͘ͅo̸̝̿̉̉̆̅͒͝ǔ̶͇̘͈͇̤͚̍͒͊͆̄̌̿̿̄͌̍͝͝ţ̶̩̖̖͂̒ͅǫ̵̨̛̛̟̪̮̦̗͎͔̭̍̋̐͊͜ͅơ̷̼͔͍̞̗̖̺̲̣̥͖̯̒̽͗̌͘̕͜͝ͅ ̴͚̺̯̘̗͓͚͙͈͇̪̹̏

̷̛̘̑̆̿̊̄͐̇̄̆̚͘͠I̷͙̱͐͐͂ĺ̷̬͍̮̜̹̘͂͊̾̇̈̚ͅo̸̢̨̫̻̣͔̖̙̘͈͉̪̾̓͑̀̿͋͜v̵͉͓̞̻̹͆̾̊̇͆̃̔̐̓̕͝͝ͅĕ̷͍͔͉̮̫̭͙̻̤̗̬̠͐̽͑̅̓͛͘ͅͅȳ̶̧̗͚̮͔̰̭̹͓͈̳́̓̓͋̈́͒̆͛͂̚͜͝ơ̵̡̭͚͓̹͐̍̒͗̐͑̈̈̈́͗̈̈́͒̑u̴͎͓̝̥̘̼̹̿̽̔̊̂̓͜͜t̵̜͔̳̹̞̝̄̀̈̿̆͠ǒ̸̟̙͇̜̽̚o̶̧̧̜̥̲͜͝ͅí̶͓͍l̶͉̼̩̞̹̝͍̳̬̂̄́̏̈́̿͒̽̈́͒̍̏̈́̚̕o̵͈͉̮̱̘̓̇͋̑͆͂̈́̉̾̒v̵̢̛͓̳̞̻̫͐̅̂̂͛́̏͌̑̄͐͠͠ê̵͉͍͚̻̬̱̇͛͛́̈́͘y̵̘͓̾̆͝ơ̸̧̧͙͈̣͓̟̭͓̬̋͋̎͝ͅư̴͈̱̱͖̭̳̬̖͕͈̭̄͋̉̈́̇͌̒̽̈́̚͘͜͠t̸̢̫͔̞͕̞͓͛̓̆͋̈̈́̌͛͊̒̈́͝͝ǫ̶̧̛͚̝̩̼̼̮̤͇̩̠̩͒̽̔̈̓̌̑̾̈́̂ͅo̸͉̤̿͂̀͑͑͝i̶͈̣͍͘̚l̷̤̞̱͎ô̸̧̻̳̺̻̲̳̗v̴̺̜̟̮̰̅̓̈̾͌́́͛͋͗̀̚e̷̻͉͓͚͖̟̬̯̐̅́y̶̨̛̭͖͇̺̖͈̟̜̭̏͌͗̿́͂̓̑̓͝͠͠o̶̡̡̢̧̹̬̞̎̉̄̃̋̎̃͋͗̏̋̎u̶̢͕̘̰̝͓̯͋̑́͋̐̄̽̿̚̚̕͠t̶̩̜̊̀̾̓͛̍̽͂̓͗̈́̓̃̚o̴̫̅̽̏͠͝ͅǒ̶͕̠̯̽͂͛̂͒̆̉͑͌͒͜ ̵̬̟̯͓̮̳͔̫͎̳̝͗ͅị̸̛̘̜̖̼̅̓͐̆̉̅̏͌̅̆͘͝ ̴̣̔̉̿ͅļ̷̛̦̼̙̰̤̯̃͒̾

T̵̢̞͎̗͉̼͎͎͌̓̀̈́͛́͝͝͝ḩ̸̩͓̮̦͍̪̿͆̄̓͐̆̊͒̈́̕̕̕e̷̛̛̦̒̆̄̈̍̑̔̒̍͐̎͑̇̚͝͠ͅ ̸̦̠̣̝͔̣̮̣͖̼̘͔̱̪͕͍͚̲̙̜̜̄̄̈́̈̍̿͝͝͝ḧ̷̼̘̗̩͕̬̟̱̿̽̄͛́̽̄̊͌̒͒̄͘͘͝͠e̷̡̘̹̰̻͋a̸̧͖̲̼̜̤̜̬̲͈̲͓͈̜̗͒̍̍͒͊͆̕r̴̻̫͇̼͔̻̻̳͕̗̄̒̎͋̌̃̈̽͊͜͝t̷̡̩̙̖̲̠͓͖̖͍̞̦̞̣͎̗̲͆̐̂͆̐̍̄͂̇͝ ̶̡̝̝͖̥̠̳̻̝͍̦͕͎̞͈̥̤̋̽̒̍̃͆͆̓͑͒͜͠d̴̞̯̮̻͍͖͇̬̭̳͎̹̤̹̟͓̦̰̹̠͛͒̄̒͑̄͋̏̄͂̽̃̿ͅi̴͉̮͔̜̫͖̞̗̾̀́͗̋̍̿̓͜͝ͅe̶̡̝̖̖͎͎͕̎͑̾̑̋͑͌̿̑̇̔̈́̎̇̈̽͗͗̑̀̚̕͜͜͠s̴̨̛̪̦̰̖̮̞̠̫̟̖͎̟̉̈́̉͗̊̈́̄̔̋͌̍͂̾̽͋̔̔̔͛͜ ̸̛̛͙̰̦̻̙̪͂͋̑̿͛̆̀̆́̿͋͘͠͠͝ă̷̧̨͚͉̤̭͒̋̏̀͜͝ ̷̥͉͙̠̦̺̤̳͔̈́̑̀̊͠ͅs̵̨̡̧̢̧̧͚͇̬̘̼͍̜̖̲̙͙̪̻̻̦͋̿̄̏̎̉̇͑̈́̚͜l̵̛͈͉̙̽̊̏̊̆͘̚ơ̷̢̮͓̭̫̱̺̇̇͂̆͊͛̀̀̒̾̍͂̏͂̄̏͋͘͠w̴̡̧̛̖̪̝͕͓̫̲̩̮̞̣̦̹̦̪̘͊̓͌̽̆͒̅̏̾ ̵̡̡̘̟̳͍̩͖͕̱̥̮̽̃͐̓͑͑̍̉̌̚͠d̵̡͓̭͇̳͕̦̺͕̥̩̼̪̄͐͛̔̇͑ě̵̢̢̞̝̰͍͎̪̳̥̮̺̤̲̩̠̿̀̃̆̅͂̈́͑͂̾͑̊̍̄̔͘͘͝a̵̧̧̨̙̫̫̺͕̞̤̙̘̗͕̰̰̖̖̍̿̀͑͒͛̾̒͊̓̉̅͌͝ţ̴̨̡̟͍͎̫̯̜̠͖̬̫͔͉̥̱̻̫͍̠͇̑̉̏̍̽̒̾̊̐̑̀̓̄͐̍̑͐̈́̓͐͜͝h̸͔͕̱̪͔͍̔̔̽̒̅̉̽̏̃̅̈́̒̊̏͗̉͘̚͘̕͝͠.̶͇̱͇͍͕̠̼̞͕̗̯͇̗̩̳͋ ̸̛̛̤̤̠̯̿́̀͂̈́̿̊̔̽͆̅͋͐̚͠͝͠U̷̢̳͙̮̼͕̙̘̦͖̞̲̲͂̐͛͑̏̈́́͊͛̇̂̂͗͂́͐̈́̂̇͘̚͝͠ͅn̸̻͙͕͖͇̥̻̤͓͙̮̜͕͇̯͛̌̂̇̈͆̐͂ẗ̶̨̡̫̟̫͖̗̭̗͔̪̮̦͉͙͓̪͚̖͔͖̓̑̾̂́̋̉͌̊͝i̶̥̻̥͍̱͐̌͌̇̂̐ļ̷̺̫̝͚̮͔̩͙̟̺̲̬̘̹̪̦̺̦̠̜̃̾͌͗̐͘ ̷̝̞̝̯̺̙̣̬̰̘̋͌͗͘ͅṉ̸̢̡̧̛̼͎͈̣͖̣̝̼͖͕̞͉̳̙͊̇̏͑̋̎̈̈̅̆̚͝͠ͅo̸̡͔͈͖͎͉̝̹̹̯̮̼̟̽̋͗͐̾̅̎͑̈̒̊̍̆̑͒̎̈́̉̚̚͜͝ͅt̶̢̢̧̢̧̠͔̰̫̫̤͙͓͉̤͕͉͖̼̮̟̣̥͕̎̏̐̏͛͝h̷̛̘̺̟͉͈̹̭̩̠̯̒̏̇̆̃̂͋̒̈̓̈́̈́̍̒̅̚͝ĭ̷̭͊͑͂̒̂̅̓̈́͛̋̃̿͝n̴̗͚̭͕̩̤̦̣̯̠̖̪͛̓̋͂̿̎̂̂̾͛͊́͑̕͘͝͝g̶̡̧̡̛̺̰̟̱͈̠͕̜̭͈̳̥̯̑̂̌̿͒̌̋̍̌͗͂̕͘͜͠ͅ ̸̛͎̝̗̹̰̩̤̃̀͌̾̅̈́̈́̏͂̓̈́̉͒͌̊̂̿͂̕͘͘i̵̛̗̳̬̙̱̥͙̓͛̈́̑̚ṣ̶͍͉̲̫̤̗̻́̔͛͗͐̿͒̒͌͗ͅ ̴̡̪̭̠̗̰̖̼̬͂͋̏̾̐̌̉̑̓̔̈́̆̌͑̒͘͠ͅļ̷̏̄͆̂̾̆̿͒̌̓̎̈̈́̋̑̒͛͐̋̂̕͠͝ẻ̷̡̧̢̧̡̬͇̩̪̩̙͔̖̭̹͙̟̙̮͎̿̉̈́̽̆͝͠ͅf̵̝̤̩͑̋̏́̄͊̇̄̿̌̌̊͒͒̀̚͘̕͝ͅt̵̩͔̼͍͇̣͚̗̼̟̘̿͛͆̏̓̾͒͑̉̃͗̾̾̊͑̒͗̄̋̈́͐͒͂̆ͅ.̶̢̞̖͎͍̳̮̥̗̺̟͉̬͉̜̥̺̲̫̘̬̈́̒͛̄͂̀͌̇̐͌̊͊͆͆̃̕͜͜ͅ ̴̧̮̻̰͚̦̦̬̣̫̬͇̭͎̣̪̝͚̮̤̗͇̖̎͛̽̏́̄̚͘ͅT̵̡̪̈́̂̍̀̉̓̈̈́͆͋̋́̀̍̇̿̂͂͝͝͝h̴̢̨̟͕̤̠̪̫̪̟͕̺̋̔̇̉̿̍̽̃̊̾̽́̃̕̚͜ė̶̡̧͍̯̤̭̟̮̪̞͓̦̣̹͓̥͎̱̞͓̦̞̍ͅͅ ̴̲̳̩̘͈͕̺̫̹̒̈́̎̂̾͑͐̐̋̓͊̂̆́̚͜͠h̷̜̟̬̥̑̎̏͐̄̈̍̓̽͋͗ȩ̷̣̳̝̮̭͇͎͈̣͂̔̓̆̒̾̂͌͜͝͝a̷̜̓͠r̶̟̰̭̘̪̤͈̬̦͚̤̘̪͚̜̺̞͇͇̈́̍͋̏̅́͛̇̿̕͜͝͝ţ̸͍̳̖̥̰̠͉̪̭̼̻̝͚̞̰̭̈́̈́̑͋͋̐͊̒́̇̊̉͛̾͑̀̿̑͘͜͜͝͠ ̸̳̘̎̈̎͑́̚͠i̸̧̡̧̛͖͚̰̣͈̠̻̙̺̮̙͈̘̫͇̹̗̘͐̈́͐̈́͗̑̓̇͌̈͗͒̈́̀̽̕̕͘͝ͅņ̶͇̓̇̈͆̉̔̾͑̊̆̊̕͝h̴͉̟̳̫̮͉̥̹̥̦̤͉͓̩̯̗̗̮͚̫̤̓̑̔̐̅͋͊̔̅̿̕͝͝ͅͅa̶͙͇̋̔̇͗͑̋̐̈̍̄͝͝ͅl̴̨̡͍͔͚̪̭̖͉͉͈̫̖̻̤̬̯͈̗̥̙͉̩̐́̾͝ȩ̵͙̝̘͔̰̮̘͎̭̫̌̏͗̃͝s̸͓̺͒̾̿̌̽̑̃̐̀̒̎̽̈́́̌̉̓͂͛͆̈́̚͘͝ ̸͍̠͉̥̞̞̟̳̺̮̪̞̱̹̻͖̗̜̱̜̼͎̂̀̓̉ͅs̸̨̡͔̦̝̗̞̤̙̻̘̖̲̣̬̻̘̱͋m̷̡̥̳̖̑̈́̈̒͆̓͑͊̏͘ǫ̸̭̲̟͖̞͉̥̖̫̪̹̯̪̞͙̇̽̍́̿͌̈́̂̃̏̃̓̌͘͜ͅͅk̸̨͚̮̟̱̻̝̻̥̱̫̲̖͍̻̥̭̣̳̹͓̑̏̊̈͌̀̄͒͌͐̃̕̕̕͝͝͠ë̵̛̱̩̬̺̣̟̜̖͖̱̺́́̄͆̈́̐͌̈͂̈̓̎̉̿̊̌̾͘ ̷̧̞̘̦͕̞̫̺̩͖̩̰̪̩͓̪̏̎͒͒̓̂̓̉̽͊̇̂͠͠ͅu̷͓̯̩̙̱͔͑͐̈́̊͋̎̏̏͛͋̈́̂̚͘͝n̵̡̟̝̮̺̮̭͚̭͙̱͍̮͕͇͍̘̜͔̺͎̎͋̃̄̅͆͊̂͛͆͑̇͐̇́̉͑̇̓̃̑͜͜͝ţ̷͈̦̬̣̙̞̘̼̖͓̎͌̍͐͊͒̋̓̒̐̓̕į̸̢̡̢̣̞̱̥̤͕͉̝͙̮͚̳̦̺̼̫̤͓̿̐̐̄͋͠ͅl̵̨̛̘̠͙̪͓̯̂͊͊̾̊̍̾̄̽͐̉͑̋̓̈́͆̎̕ͅ ̵̡̡̧̨͓̣̦̥̰̘̱̰͎̱̳͙̩̯̣̘̝̘͎̈́̇͑̍͗͒́̾̓͝i̸̢̧͙̲͍̬̮̮̙̱̿̽͋̈́̋́̃̾̈́̉̑͑̇̈́̍́̀̍̄͘͠͝͝ţ̴̨̨̨̛̣̟͉̞̭͇̬͎͙͇̼͎̾͝ ̵̨̡̻̰̯̠̆͌̈́͋͐̈́̃̄͂̎͐͗͆̚̚͠͝ͅd̶̳̤̯̹̪̯̺̻̓͑͂̿̋̾̎̄̓̐̀̐̋̏̌̽͌̽̓͘͝î̸̖͇͎̠̭̺̲̲͖̟̑̂̈̎͑͋̾͋̚͝s̶̡̧͇͍̘͉̥̮̞͇̦͇̳̬͚̗͗̉́͌͆̒̈́̌̊̾̓̄̃̃̓͛̅̋͒̋͜͜͝ͅą̸̼̱̗̻̳͖͊̍̀̊͌p̵̛̛͖̣̰͇͈͕̼̲̰̭̥̱̣̙͍̗͎̘̼̜̪̄̐̑͗̆̉̀͒̓̍̑͗̐̄̚͝͠ͅp̵̼͇̽͐̒̐̉̾̂̓͑͛̓̓͛̅̿͌̅͘̚͠͠ȇ̸̢̨̘̤̭̪̘͎̪͈͍̙̣͖͔̘̩̹͊̒͐̓͗̀̐͒̕͜ä̷͕͔̦̗͚͕̻̼̲́̅̈́̿̓̒̓̍̀̇̈́̂̆̓͐͂̊͜͝ṛ̷̪̣̠͍̺͎̫̜̾̑̾̐͗̌͌̉͒̉̓̍s̷̘̗̩͙͇̖̖̙̠͎͎̪̻̠͈̱̹̟̰̀̊̿̈́̈́͗͌̊͊̀̄̐͂̅̏̆̉̓̔̃̆̚͜͝ͅ ̸̡̛̪̩̗͔̠̺̝̩̩̘̞̯̬͖͙̠͕̾̂̎͋̔̆̐̏̑̓̃̃̑̄̈̚͘̕͝͠i̶̡͉̗̦̳̼͓̭̥̿́̾̎̏̉̑̈̈́̓̐͊͛͝͠͠n̴̤̝̰͋̉̄͌̑͒̚t̸̢̛̛̪̙̥̗̪̙̗̮̺̱̜͂̇̂̃̍͆̎̐͊̔͛͆̓̈́̅̽̂̓͂̕ͅǫ̶̩̮̬̝̪̹̮͕͖̖͎͇̝̱̘̻̭̦̗̎͒̓̚͝ ̶̧͇̼̮͔̦̗̲̪̻̜͍̞̘̺͖̜̜͈͚̓͝ͅt̵̡̜̤̞̝͕̞͎̱̩̹̥̬̟͕̣̬̤͎̾̂̆̑͌̉͐̓̽̚̕͝͠͠ͅḩ̵̧͖͈̜̲̥̫͔͖̟̲͖͕̟̭̻̞̟̏̈́͐͆̈͒͘ḛ̶̤͔̹̭̦̹̗̪̟̙̮͉̽͗̏̈́̔̿̒̍̏͂̋͆̾̎̔̽̚͘͠ ̴̳̩̿̎̂̓̈́́͐͠ģ̵̭͉͙͍̣̼͕̩͍͚̮̞̙̯͇͉̹͐̀̎́̃̑͊̔͊͗͘ŗ̷̦͔͇̈́̇́ę̸̱̞͐y̴̧͍͈͇̺̫̩͙̫̫̹͎̞͖̲̠̰͕̒͐̎͋̀̆̓͆̈͜n̸̨̢͇͍͚͈̣̝̖͔͌̑̽̂́̅͜ë̶̟̳̘͌͂͆̃ş̶̨̢̠̺͕͉̝͉̘̲͖̝̼̙͈̙̘̮̜̻̫̯̣̿̒̉̇̾̉̾̓̃͗̃̈́͝͠s̴̨̛͈̬͙̙̆͆͌̎͒͌̔̀͋͋́̀̈́̈͒͑̐̏̚̚̚ ̸̢̨̨̡̡̨̡̝̱̹͎̲̻͓͉̱̞̩̗͇͉͍̊̈́̓̊̂̀͜ͅį̷͚̼̦͓̮̲̯̈́͋͒̈́͒̒̓͝ͅţ̶̛̱͇͈̭͉̘̫̞̑͛͋̈́͛͐͐̋͊̐͌͑͘̚͠ş̵̢̢̢̪̝̞̥̯͍̮͕̳̻̲̣̲̪̜̼̮̤̿͑͊̈́̅̏̇̆̄e̶̢̫̙͚̹̮̝̘̮̅̏͗̒̒̒̀͌̐̒̐̉̏̈́̌͜͠l̴̛̞̜̻̞̇̋̈́̉̊͑̋͗̈́͛̃f̵̨̧̨̧̬̹̲̞̩̞̦̖̲̦͈̝̥̲̺͔̤̤̑͊͘͝.̵͈̳̺̼̙͙͉͈̹̫̯͙̜͇̼̦̭̔̑̽̓̈́̄̾̆͒̏̚ ̵̧̨̯̯͙̥͓͚̞̩̙͎̘̣̏̒I̸̜̣͖̽͑̿̈́͌̿̿̽̄͋͂̾̎̊̅̒̽̿̔̈̕͘̕͝ ̸͙̺̗̰̤̞̭̰̅͒͂̓̄̾̚ḧ̶̡̩̳̮̠̟͚͉̘́̏̓̊̆̏͋̓̽̾̆̆̅̚͠ͅa̷̯͕̲̗̥̐̂̒̓̄͒̓̈́͋̈̾̏̏͠͝v̴̢̡̨̨̬͖̻̪͎̋̈́͋͑̃͗̅̽̂͊̚̚̕͜͠͝͠e̶̢̛̙̤̯̝͇͌́̀̈́͗̍̕͝ ̵̧͓̜͔̗̳͎͓̲̩̰̲̭̮͋̈́̈̾̂̒̒̑̋̈́̕̕͝t̶̡̧̨͇̞͕̩͎͍̭͖͖̎̂̅̈́́̈́̐̑̄̆̃̿͝͠͝͝h̷̨͉̘͖̤͂͑̆̈́̈́͋̽̇̂͆̏̆̎̐̆͑͒̀̚̚͝͠ę̵̨̛̠͖̘͚̼͚̠͇̹͈̰̖͊͂͗̃̽͊͊͜ͅ ̴͍͔͉̈́̀̍̄͊̾̌̉̈̅͗̿̅͊̇̍̚͘̕͝͝ͅf̷̨͉͍͖̭̲̄͊̿́͆̋̐͊́̅a̷̛͉̰̩̙͆̈́͊̏̾́̓̃͗͒̏̉́̒͌̈́̇̚̚̕̚͠c̶̮̩̩̥̮̦̤͖̼̈̃̊̍̓̈́͆̌͊̈͗̒͒͠͝ę̶̧̲͉͚͕̱̥̱͓͇̦̥̖̹̩̞̰̓̐̍̾̓͋̃̕ ̸̛̳̭̮͍̺͍̩̯̮̱̞͔̝̪̱͇̞̮̭̱͇̽́̓̐̓͐̾̿͂̿̈͝͝ͅỏ̷̲̪̭͖̟̭̩̝̫͚̫̙͚̱͇̖̹̳f̸̨̡̧̡̢̖̻̪̥̝̼͓͚͎̞̮͓̦̫̺͍̟̰̔̃͒͑̈̋͑̈́͐̓̌̕ ̴̼̫̗̥̮̼̣̥̝͕̱̫͗̑͐̏̈̀̆͋̆͜͠ş̷͓̜̤̝͜͝o̶̢͕̻̥̰̟̘̿͆̎m̶̻͙̮̩̟̪̰̥̱̪̆͐͌̿̅̓̃͑͋̐͑͒͊̍̔̂̽͊̒̚͝͝ȇ̸̡͚̼͖̬̻̭̟͈̤̜͍̖͍̥̭͈͍̬̉̔̈̉̈̈̀̽̌̍̽ͅờ̸̟̲̘̭̠̗̱̠̣̲͉̮̲̪̲͚̤͙̿͛̏̐̃̉̚͝ͅṇ̸̢̭̳̆̈́̆̂̓̑̽̈́́̄̎̑͠e̷̢̨̢̨̪̘̱͈͚̝̜͚̻͍͓̣̯͐̍̀͌̈́̑͐̏̈́̀̐̓̆̈́̾̍̚͘͝͠ͅ ̵̙̟̗̘͎̌̿̎̐̋̓͛̄̀̽̊̔̒̽̕ẅ̸͚͚̞̱͕̥̂̐͗̆̋̀͑̓͋̃̿̍̆̇̒̂̕͜͝ͅẖ̵̟̣̙͇̫̬͐͂̎͒͆̋̎̐͌͋̒̑͗̐̏̾͗͒̾̚̕̕ơ̵̢̧̺̫̻̘͎͉̥̮̰̝͕̦͖͕̓̒͒̈́̆͘ ̵̡̨̢̡̨̛̼̥͓̻͇͖̭̫͚̮̮̞̮͇͔̲͚̒͐̔̿͋̓̽͋̏͘̕͠ĩ̶̛͈̺͚̲̪̩̝̏̈́̾̑̋͆͌̈́̀̐͑̀̍̐̏̀̅̚ͅs̶̨̡̮̯̤̲̙̙̠̯͉̜͈͔̭̮̾͒̏͆̌̒͜͝ ̷̢̡̛̦͕̖͓̲̻̻̪̮̬̪̜͈̟̋̍̏̈́̌̒̅̊͂̌̈́̇̕̚͝͠͝͠͠͝ḡ̸̢̮͙̅̈́͂̐̓̓̉̎̓͐̈́͌̒̾̍͘͝͝o̴̢̢̟̹͖͍̲͉͈̦̝̺̥̟̣̱̱̓̏i̸̧͔̭͈̻̻͉̖̱̹̰͔̲͓̣̱̜̙̜̬̹͕̺͂̔̋͛͐̓̑̏̍̿̾̈́͊̈͜͠n̴͈̅̐̏́̐̏g̵͇̲̜̘̭̖̼̠͔̟͐̈́͐̆͑̄̈́̔̓̐͗̀͂̋̉͊͠͝ ̸͔͔͓̰̻̪̖̭̲̼͍̖̉̇̏̅̔͊͜ͅͅͅẗ̶̗̃̈́͌͒̓͌̍̀͠o̷̟͖̓̄̐̉͝͝ ̷̘͉̞͉͙̳̻̳̦̯̪̱̘̩̔̄̇̽͗͑̅͘̚̚ͅd̶̨̞̃̽̽̿̍̒̒͐̕͘̚i̴̟̲̙̞̥̽e̷̡̡̡̢̛̛͙̙̠̗͖̣̳̼̖̥̻̦̰͕͕̜̖̰̱͋͐̅̇͗͆̃̎̓̿̾̚͝ͅ ̴̡̛͈̦͊͒̈͂̅̿͋̾̽̓͊̃̎͌̋̌͠ÿ̸̧̡̪̫̫̭̤̦̥̮̹͙̈́͑̂̃́͆̾͒͗̅̓̍͐̂ơ̷̢͚͈̪͔̞̞̦̭̺̤̦̺̤̦̦̤̗͎̞͐̈́̑̀͒̒́͛͋̎̐̓͐̚͜ư̴̧͍͔͇̮̰̖̟̞̯̭̺͎̜̺͉͎͉̐̄̈̌̔̀̽̈́̈̕̕͜ṉ̶̨̧̭̬̝̙͚̰̝̳̻̹̣̟̹̰̤͔́̋̈́̊̅͐̌͗̔̽͐͗́̌̀͘͜ͅͅg̶͔̟̲͇̮͈͔̳̖̺͆́͊.̷̱͈̲̮̭̺̻̩̹̰̥͙̲̻̼͈̼̮͔̘̄͊͑̅͋͑̐̐̾͂̈́̏̋͊̿͂̈́͗́͘͘̕͜ ̵͈̹̎͌̿̎̊̊̽̈́͑͘͜͠Î̷̢̡̫̞͕̳̯͙̪̮͖̘̦͎̭͔̹͂͘ͅf̴̨̛͔̘̠̳͖͕̣͂͋̒̾̌͊͋̑́̇̎̏̈͌̄̐̌͐͑̚͘̚ ̶̛̯͍̬̱͉̊́̂̑̈́̅̇̓͌̈́̌̚I̷̡̛̺̺͍̘̠̮̜͔̪͕̲͇̮͔͎͇̼̖͐͌͐̊̃̉͐̅̏͑̈̓̀̐̚͠͠͝ ̶̧̢̱̪͚̺̪͚̬͔̩̳̻̼̄͌̐͆̄͌̄ͅś̵̨̝̲͙̯̹̲͔̭̺̬͉̪̋͑̀p̸̢̛̰͓̝̼̜̬̪̠͓̮͉͓̠͐͒̐̌̏̅̐̏̚̚ļ̷̧̖̙͖̼̪̻̺͚͓̦̯̦̗̳̲͔͇̺̈́̎̊͐̾͊͜ͅͅi̴̡̨̫̪̭̜̼̰̦̖͎̯̺̣̰̘͎̤̺̹̙͒̅̊͘͜ͅͅt̸̰̅͒̋̂̌͆̃̍̊̓̌̄͐̾͑͌̔͝ ̵̛̜̰̞̝̠̺̯̤̺͎̲̘͇͖̙̤̫͈̭̫̯̋̈́̍̄͆̆͌̊͌̽̄̄̓͑͘͜ͅm̸̨̦̦͕̣̐̏͗̊͐̍̋̓̐̈̐̇̓̍ý̸̛͖̰͎̙͎͉̮͔̫̮͖̻̫̲̬̤̱̲̗͈̱̜̹̄͗͋̋̾͜͝s̵̡̛͍̦̐̽̾̅̍̒͆̉͛̀͛̃͘ẽ̷͚̭̘̽̎ḻ̸͎̲̖̗͔͉̟̰̣̙̪͆̈͑̆̓̅͗̑͒̅͐͘f̸̫̟̱͙͕͒̅̿̋̋̓̂̀̐͛͂̽͆̓̉̒͝͠͝ ̸͚̦̠͖̞̿͑̕͘͠͠ó̶̢͎̖̰̖͋͆̈́̀́p̶̡̛̖̭̜̰͙̗͈͇̝̯̥̻̙̟̗̘͙̥͇̠͎͗͆͒̔̄̍̾̉̔̋̎͋̅͗̈́̓͒̚̕̚͝ę̵̨̫̪̩̰̑̒͝͝ͅn̵̛̩̺̗̣̻̺̬̣̦͔̗̞̩̬͚͉̳̥͆̎̍̀̃̈́̉̔͌͑̌̎̍̉͝ ̴̢̩̜͇͈̬̼̘̝͎̱͓̰͉̪̝̲̆̇͛͜w̴͕̠̼͍̮̮̱͍͔̰̺͈̼͍͖̗͋̂͋͒̔͝͠͝ì̵̼͖̝̲͍̞̦͙̪͉̭̪̲̖̦̊̍͛̓͋̆̐̅̑̽̔͆͛̍͌͘̚̕̕͝͠ͅḻ̷̨̛̘̭͇̱͓̈͑̊͌̃͒̿̀̈́͌̽̎͆͆͝ḻ̵̢̢̧̢̛̳̩̖̮̹̺̹̩͙̬̭͚͉̦̫̈̿̆̈́̈͆̂͊̓̽̍͆̅̋̽̒͘̚͜͝ ̶̛̺̼̯̘̪̔̐̋̓͋̐̈̎̍̑̓̐̄͘͝t̵͓̹͎̞̝̹͖̥̞̄̍̋̔̅̇̓̉̍̈͊͆̆͗͐̒͋̚̚͘͜͝͝ȟ̶̰͙̖̫̖̜͚͓̺̯̱͍̋̐̍̇̎̽̊ȩ̵̧̡̧̛͕̣͈͎̬̲̣̤̜̩͎̞̗̜̘̱͈̈́̒͂̔͆̆̾̂̋̿̍r̴̪̠̩̫̈̇́̄̆͑̅̒̑̆̃͋̀̂͗̐̚e̷̡̳̯̦̲̟͓̗̲̞̥̫͎̳͐̐̇͌̐̃̅̓̃̌̾̕ ̸̢̢̺̞͖̱͖̞̖͈̫̭̗̳̜͇̹̥̯̖̑̿̊͌̈b̶̛̳͖̪̦̭̎́͑̿͌̓̚̚͘͠e̸̡̞̗̠̝̮̩̬͓̗̩̗͕̪͔̠̊͆̌̓̑̑͘͜ͅ ̵̫̼̲̫̺͇̠̭͎̘̺͗̐̃̂̃̿̾̈́͐̆̐̉̿̽͐̎̓̿͘͝͝͝ͅa̶̢̨͇̗̠̝̖̱̤͉̐͒̓̅̐̈́͊̅͂̾͝͝ͅņ̸̧̟̥̯̼͚̲̮̠͍̮͍̖͍͓̗̳̦̱̯͙̓̎̾ỷ̸̛̪̺̤̱̍͊̿͗̓̂͌̋͆̏͑͊̆̈͌͛͠͝t̴̞̝̳͈̘̥̩́̊̐̽̓͑͛̓̇̆̄̓́͊͆̑̂̈́̚ȟ̷̨̨̛̺̥̜̙̱̥̼̮̎̽̊̉̓̅͑̀͆̊̊̿̋̊̓͘̕͜͝į̵̨̛͈̝̟̯̯̣͖̩̬͔͍̝̖̱̤̱̰̣̬͉̋̊̎̑͝ͅn̸̢̠͉̥̪͕̩̯̻̩̳̬͈͓͛̈̐͊͛̆͂͒̈́̇̅͌̔̏͌̎̓͛͐͆̕͠͠ġ̶̛̰͕̉́͊̏̊̒̏̿̈́̎̈̾̂̀͑̇̑̿̎̃̏̊ ̵̩̻͓̰͉͕̯̰̟̳̠̬̤̯̦͈͈̐̂̍̊̾̋͌̽͊͜ͅt̸̗͚̫̦̱̣̱̘͕̪̺͍͇̯͙̜̘̔̌͐̔̒̈́̅̓͑̈́͆͋̇͐͐̚̚͜h̶͎͈̙̫̫̙͙̗̻̳̙͓̲͑̽̓̐̅͑̈́̏́̄̈͛̕͝ȩ̷̜̦̹̠̯͉͚̬͖̻͓̲̲̩̺̃̋͂̋̃ṟ̶̡̧̘͔̳̘͖̲͕̬͈̣̦̤̊͂͝ͅë̵̛̦̦̳̹̥̻́̀͊͛̓̇́̓̐͌́̀͐̃̏̚̕?̷̡̟̼́̋̉͛̾̏̕̕͝ ̶̧̨̖͙̻̦̘͎͙̠͔̒͊̐̍̿̑̌̄̐̒̽͗̅́̃͐̒̇͜͜͝͝A̴̢̢̢̧̢̳̱͇̪͕͇͕̤̘̞̝̱͑̾͑̓́̃̓̾̈́̕͜͜ṃ̶̢̳͕͙̯̻͓͙͙͙̈́͊́̓͛̍́͊̈́̋ ̸̨̢̛̳͇̠̣̮̬̮͉̘̊̔̄͋̄̌͜I̸̡̭̹̦̱̻̳̮̹̞̼̠̘̰̬̓̈͗̔̿͊̎̇̓̕̕͠ͅ ̷̧̢̢̛̣̘̰̜͇̝̠͇͔̲͕̦̙̗̠̘̻̾̽̈͌̉̍͐̍̋͒͋͊̆̓͐͂͋̔͗̓͑͝f̶̢̦̯̱̲̙̙̓͛̀̔͋̅͐̃̏̽͆̈͋̆̿͛̒̃̔̕̚͠͠l̸̢̧͎̙̫̣̝͓̪̦͇̙͓̖̭͕̺̥̩̳͖̫̘͋̽̽͊̈́̅̌̀̂͑͊̌̕̕͝e̶̯̻͖̥͕̿s̷̢̨̗͖̟̗̪̗͈̖̯͔͔͙͖̾͗̊͒͋̔̅h̴̹͕̏̊̔ ̸̧̢̝̠̺̬͖͍̜̹̯͍̲̪͉̖̖̭͉̰̯̜̯̪̓̆̃̽̇̿͐̔̎̒̽̀̇͊̕ā̶̟͈͍̃̽͋̄̂̈́̏̎͑̇͐͆̉͑͝͝ǹ̷̢̠͎̟͉̣̬͖̰̙̪̺̹̣̘̆̃̓̊̓̈́̄̆̇̎̋̏͒͂͘̕͜͝͠d̴͇͈͔̜̰̯́̓̌̉͜͜ ̶̲̫͈̰͉̾͒̔̓͐̔̃̍̓̑̓̓̈̉͛̐̎̚̚͘͝͝b̴̳̼̺̭̜̩͍̳̬͇͉͂͆̉̓̆̂̎̐͘l̷̢̡̖̱̠͕͉̩͙̲̙̥̮̱̹̜͍̻̳̂̂́̃̃̂̇̀̚͝o̵̡̬̤͍̖͙̞͋ͅơ̶̧̝̼̯̮̫͐͗̿͊̇̉̐̉̚d̵̼̠̞̖̱͖̤̖̼͍̠̱͚̯̽̌̐͗̍̾̑̒͒͊́̂͐̈́̚̚ͅͅͅ ̸͓̜̭̖̰̲͇̫͖̆͒͒̑͒͋̿̉̕͘͜͜͝͠͠ͅä̶̤͌͆̐̈́̾͋̐͌͑́̊́͗̉̈́̓̕͝͝͠n̶̢̢̢̨̢̡̠̝͍͉̩̝̙̺͔̝̤̘̬͎̖͔̾̄̏̈́͑̒̚̚͘ͅd̸̨̧͙̜̩͈̯͉͚̞̰͇̦̬̫̿̐̏̽͊̇̓̐͐̎͐̑̒͗͠ ̶̫̝̥̼͙̼͍̲̤̗̪̌̅̊͛̊̽̾͒̇̚͝͝ơ̵̛͙̮̠̠͍̬̳̖̪͖̥̦̘̹̺̩̻͎̮̅̍͂̏̄̋̉̐̾̌͑̄̌͗̀̕͘͝r̶̫̮͓̲̄̑̆̑̐̎̿̔͂̈́̊̓́́́̂̏̓̌͘͘͝ğ̵̡̧̧̡̥̺̲̰͙̰̩͇̟̦̥̯̼̖͕̱͛͛͐͋͛̂̇̐̓̂̎̀̋̆́̓̎͆̚͝͠͝͠ͅa̸̝͕̹̠̣͐̇ͅñ̴̨̡̗͍̪̺̖̟͙̱̬͔̟̞͒͐̎͋͑̌̊͆͛͌̓͘͜͜͝s̴̡̢̡͚̤̬̗̻͌͊́͛̉̋͌̉͑̑̈́̒̈́̉̉͗͂̈́̓̚͝ͅ ̸̛͇̍̅̌́͋̔̓̑̐̎̆̌͊͒̎͆͘̕o̸̢̢̨̧̫̮̲͓͖̗̪̿͆ͅͅr̶̡̝̬̙̈́́͗ ̶̡͉̦̟̭̣͕̮̮̘͙̤͊͂ͅj̴̝̼̙͍̞͔͔̻̟̹̬̻̹̉̾̃̎͜͠ͅͅų̷̧̨̨̧̨̢̖̪̖̮͉͍̯̗̗͔͔̹̠̙́͗͂̐s̴̛̼̅̊̂̊̏͛͗͑͊̌̔̒̒̕ṭ̷̘̞̩̈́̂̄͌́̃̓̊̈̑͝͝ ̵̙̃͛̓̇̓̈̍͊̏̀̽̓̓͘͝͝ḧ̸̡̢̛̦̱͖̩͕̳̪̝͈̹̖̬͈̗͉͎̱̉̈́́́̆̔͐̓̑̀̅͆̓̓͆̏̋̚͘͝͝ͅͅơ̵̢̳̘̙͉̎̋̅̄̄̑͌̌͊̓̑́̊̽͘͠l̴̢̢̡̫͕͖̙̲͖̩̱͈͖̺̞̙̬̲̦̜͍̰̩̾̅̃̋̃l̴̨̢̛̜̘̲̖̠̖̱͙̾͂̓̉̈́̔͊̃̈̾̎͋͂͂̕̕͠ơ̸̮͉̲̟̻̣̟̖̻͉͍̽͑͑́̈́̑͌̏͊̑̋͐̇͛̈́̍̆̏̌̂͌͜͜͝w̵̡̨̛̹͉̰̜̬̙̣̮̘͙̤̭̟͎͉͚̤̪̣͕̑͘n̴̖̥̒̏͋̆͌͗͊͂͊̉̏͋̌̂̓̑͗̆͊̈́͘͝ë̵̛̟͈̯̼̗̗́̏͛̽̈́̔̈͋͛́̏͊̌̓̉̒͂̽̾̚͠s̷̱̙̹̮̟͙̫͇̗͖͔̾̃͛̂̐̎̃̆̌̽͌̀̐̈́̚͘͜͠͠͝ͅͅͅs̵̢̧̮̩̯̰̥͙̙̠͙̟̣͓̍̒͌͊͘͝?̸͍̯͚͙̑̐̂̀̍̐̒̂̄̋̓͌͊̽̉͘ ̸̢͇̹̲̝͕̑͛̈́͒̾̍̇́̈́̏͒̚͜͠͝Ṯ̴̡̰̗̱̝͈̼̰̗̫̤̉̅̿͊̌̒̈̆̔̇̆͒̆̒̓̅̊̚̚͝͝ͅh̶̢͇͎̠͍͚͚̝̙̲̝̺̽̍͑͗̒̐̉͗͋̈́͗̿͂̄́̑̋̾̌͝͝͝ͅȅ̵̟̯̰̰͚̝̱́̈͛̐ ̷̝͖͚̺͔͇̪̑͐̅̑̄͆̑̔̅͊̋͊͛̇͛̅h̷̬͍̥͓͍̫̯̬͑̎̀̐̍͒̓͐́̌̈́̄̈́̓͊̇͐̆̒͠e̸̛͓͓̼̰̥͚̠̳̩̣͕̣̞̞͕̼̬̠̰̙͕̒͌͊͛̅̓̆̂̄̈͘ͅą̵̨̡̼̼̦̟̝̱̘͙̮̥͎͔̱̦̱͈̣̩̙̯̺̐̓̒͊͛̄̇̉͂̎̏͌̂́̿͘̚͠͝͝r̷͔̝͆̌̇t̶̨̡̲̣͚͍̠̅̓̎̉̔̽́͒͠ ̵̡̗̘͙͉̮̱̞̼̖̠̬̻̦̩̥͎͈͔̰̌̒̆̉̂͠d̷͓̣̟͚̀̌͛͆͐̓̆̈̍͌̍̃͒̏̇̔̚̕̕͠i̴̲̖͋̓̽̐̊̇̔͝ę̴̤̭̦̪͕͚̜͑̇͊̓̋̉̈́͂̂̌̿̆͑̎̚͠͠s̶̫͖̟͔̣̜͚̗̮͚̩̤̘̯̱̫͌͊̓̆́͌̕͘͜ͅͅ ̶̢̺͖̯͕͙̋̇͗̈́̇̽̂̍͂̌̎̄͘̕͝ͅa̸̠̞͗͐̅̓̈́̐͌͋͆̾͆̈͌̈́̏̇̚̚͘͠ ̶̬̩̟͈̩̩͓̼͍̼͓͕͖͖͉͔͙̔̐̃̈̆͐ş̵̻͇͖͇̳̪̯̰̑̽͊̉̓̓͆̇̆̓͆̇̈́̐̏͂̐͊͘̚l̸͉̗̻̥̦̿͌͌͗̅̉͌̈́͒̉̍͛̈̒͌̍̍̿̇͘̕͝ͅo̷̡̝̞͂͂̈́̄͑̓̌̂͂͑̈́͛̑͂͗̃͒̚͠w̶̛̙̟͗̎̈́̈́͌ ̸̧̛̗̗͇͂̄͊̓͗̕ͅd̴̨͎͈͎̦̙͎̤̞̲̰̼͙̄͌̅̐ͅę̴͎͇̺̗̩̲̩̣̞̻͖͓͈͍̺͚͖̆̄̆̅ͅȁ̴̧̜̺̜̮̜̳̼͓͕̞̪͍͇̮̐̏t̴̡͙͕̱̩̼̤̮̙͚͕̗̪̠͌͌͒̆̑͂͜͝h̵̢̟͓̬̝̦̞͆͑̆͊.̷̧̛̮̗͙̤̜͎͉͎̣̪̤͖̗̙̞͖̪͆̅̑̍̆̋̌̐̎͐̐̓͒̈́̈́̆͛̓͘͝͠͝ ̶̧̡̧̡̡͇̤̱̯͙̳͚̘̒͆̇͗̍͊͆̅̈̀̚͜͝Ṯ̴̡̼̫̘̺̫͈̝̺̖̙̜͙̪̯́͊͌̆́̏̓̈́̃͑̋̆̀̓̈͂̒͒̈́̀̒͘͠͝ͅh̴͙̲͙͍͚̖̻̾͒ȋ̶̪̰̯̰̲͈̝̟̮̗͋̅͐͗́̌͑̓̌̇̃̄͂̃͛̔̇̚̚̚̕͠s̴͔̦͓͖̱͍̺̰͖̺͍̪̩̯̩̹̟̅̉̓̑͜͠ ̸̘͈͎͉̪̺̩͓̈́̎̂́̿̈́̍͒̐̒̇͋̐͑́̅̓̈́̏͋̕̚͜͝į̵̢̛̖̲̗̫̺͙̩̪͕͇̹̮͍͈̤͉́͗̄̅͑̎͐s̸̡̡̲͔̯̜͙̦̮̹̝̮̬͉͚̪̻̗̞̠̘̠̐̈́̍ ̸̛̭͎̞̼͙̙͚̠̘̯̜̣̗͓̫͖̂̈̃̄̇̽̇̇̄̾̿͑͌̿̋̃͆̋̕̚a̶̡̯͇̙̺̭̹̣͔͙̼͐͂͋͆̇͊̆͆͆̓͒̐͐͆̾̎͆̅͌͂͝͝͝ņ̴͙̞̗̟͙̻̰͔̣̰̫̬̮͎͉͉̮̙͆͊̆̀̀̃̈́͗́͋̒̐̔̓̎͆̆ ̵̡̛̛̛̳̘̱̘̭̻̘͖̲͖̹͇̠̆̽̿̐̓̀̿̒̄̆̎̔͂̈́̾͠͝ơ̶̥̩̯̮̐̓͒̒́̈́͆̒͊̉͆̓̇̄̾̑̚ļ̸̧̯̦̝̞̞̫̘̰͕̙̭̣̅̉̆̂͝d̷̰̰̓̉̇̽̑̿̍͑̕ͅ ̸̡̢̡̬̖̮̟̳͈̰̺̜͇̖̰̭̗̹̻̫͉̺͐͐̐̏͋̒͆̀͆̽s̶͙̺͍̫͓̥̗̏̓̉̾͑͂͛͑͒̓͛͒t̴̡̻̠̲̹͚̤̻̘͍̻̂̈̇̀̉́̊͗̿̓̐͘ö̶͚͇̻͎̙̱̘͍͚͎̟͉̳͈̮̣͇̻́͌̓̄͋̾̌͊͘͝ŗ̶̨̧̨̛̫͙̯̘̘̯̳̮̣̲͚̬͔̠̯͎̟̇̏̈́̽̏̾̄̕ỵ̶͕̝̹̎͊̄͂̓̐̿̓̿̓̒́̌̍̇̇̋́͛̂̚͝͠.̵̜̪̝͕̜̯̖͇̙͉͖͒͠ ̸̛̈͂̋͊̈̐͊̌͐͌̿͊̂̑͑̂̕ͅŤ̴̮̪̠͙̋̋̂̇̑͐̀̏͋͌͂͜͝ẖ̶̨̢̡̟̼̘̭̟̬̲͚̘̝͙̭̝̥̦̓͌̓͑̓̾̍̅͒̇̃̿̈́͆͘ę̴̛̛̛͕͎̼̲̺̀̂̿̂̎̾̄̽̿͂͗̃̊̌̋̾͘͜r̵̡͈̝̗̬̯͎͈͈͇̙͍͍̗̻͍̟̟͈̠̳͓͓̋̈́̄̇͊͑͋̚ͅē̵͖̞̳̗̱̺̳͌̅͒̏́̑́͝ ̵̡̢̧̛̼͇͇͕̹̻͙̦̥̹͖̗̣̬̜̬̹͂̈́̍̂̆͐̊̉̋̊̾̽͘̕͝ḯ̸̛̦͕̏̾͌̉͂͗̅͋͐͝s̴̨̨̛̫̬͖̱͚͕̗͓̗̦̦̭͉̼̱͎̻͇͈̰̓̇͐̈́̀̆̔̾͆͋̇̑̅̒̆͊̒̌̕͘̚͝ ̷̝͍̰͋̄n̶̢͚͎̜̜̳͓̣̦̘͍̮͕͔̮͕̭̪͛̇̎͛̀̿̉͆̈͂̌͘ͅͅo̵̧͍̠̦̻̹̫͜ ̷̧͈͕͍̙̊̔̇̋̋̎̊̌̉́̄͂͗́̊͝ͅo̶̘̭̙͓̗̺̙̞̭̼̣̹̰̙͍͉͇̒̉̅͗͂͂̾t̸̨̡̢̡̼͕̞̥̤̳̗̻͍̗̦͍͎̝̫̹̊̂̓̅́͋̈́̅͗́̓͐̽͐̂̃̓̚̕͜ͅḩ̷̧̣͈̗̞̥̩͉͚̰̟͙̇̍̏͊̏̅̃̋͛͛̔͑̌̾̓̌̔͂̕͘͝͠͝ę̶̡̧̢̖̗̯͕̠͎̭̎r̵͉̼͎̜̘͎̩̞̮̐̋̓͗͠͝ ̴̧̝̱̺͈̦̝͚̠̞̘̔̌̑̆͂͐v̶̨̛̛̻͕̳͖̼͚͉̤̻̣̮͍̹̗͓̼̳̞͈̋̄̃́͒̾̒̇̈́̄̌́̋͒̈́͠͝͠ė̸̼̰̍̽͑̌͐̎̓͗̓͝r̶̛̻̱̟̝͍̥̪͑̈́̀͑͑̇͋̂̍̏̀̈́̔͝ş̶̥̉͋̾̏̓͆́͐̚͠i̴̢̦̟͇͔̞̟͕̗̘̎̇͆̃͂̈́͒̓͆͒̊̀̌̂́̚ö̵̢̼̬̝͓̟̱̜͔͉̮̟̫͎̣̰̞̮̥͍̰́͂͐̔̍͛̍̋̿͗̃̓͂͠͠͝͝ņ̴̭͓̏̔̍̀̋̓͊͌͝ ̴͔̝͓̣̗̼͎̼͙̺̝̰̬͊̋̽͗̕̚͝o̶̧̧͉̞̗͔͔̫̟̪̯̦̰̯͖͔͕͓͍̓͐̿̍͛͒̋͊̔͂́͗͂̽͛̈́͜͜ͅͅͅf̸̟̗̳̤̈́̔͗͂͑ ̶̢̮̜̟̊͜͝t̴̢̻͉͒̏̒̐͆h̵̡̩̘̬̻͔͕͔͗́̐̊͊̽̊͗̓̾͛͒̉̒̾̌̚̚͜͝͝͝ḯ̸̺̳͈͚͚̯͈͍̄̌͆͋̄̒̇̓̌̔͊͌̌͂̿͋̚̚s̶̛̛̙̃͛̒̏̓̀̃̌̉̔̾̍̄͝͠͝ ̷̡̝͕̭̺̻͉̬̜̯̬̐̏̃͑͊̐̂̐̓̂̒̍̓͋̂̋̆͌̚̕͜͝͝ş̴̯̙̟̓̑̋̄̔́́͌͑́͗̋̽̈͛̀̑̎̓̚͠t̸̞͗͆͂̄̌͆́̄̆͛͐̕̕͘͠o̶͕̔̆̾̓̀͑͐̐͋̈́̽̓̆̀̿͗̓̅̅͗͘̚͠͝r̵̡̨̧̛̤̟͙̣̺̜̯̤̺͎̦͖͔̯̲̰̟̭͕ͅy̶̬̩̟͕̣̪͕͇̭͔̙̟̣̺͖̠͎͎͛̊̎̓͘͠.̶̫͔̈́͑͘͠ ̶̨͉̳͍̼͓̙̤̪͉̅͝T̵̡̨͉͎̯̟̜͎͕̻̪̩̲̖̱̰͕̲̘̩͚̠̓̈̏͛̽͌̈́̂͛͌͒͂͆̀̐̕̕͝͝͝͝͠h̵̛̗͈͉̼̲̭̱͔̬̮̼̲͓͇̔͒́͠e̷̗̥̥̫̰̪͚͎̝̯̙̝̮̫̥͉͖͛̎͝r̶̛̠͕̙̲̙̩͐̓̏͗̊͆̋̌͘e̵̗̲̼̤̥̺̼͍̖͚̖̜̲͔̫̎̀̃͊͐̓̒̿͋͋͛͊͘ ̶̡̧͇̗̘̮̺̬̻͖̬͙͉͈̮̣̺̫͓͚̍̄̆̿̓͘ͅͅḭ̴̢̮͓̝̯̲̞̤͇̪̫̮̮̳̳͚̗͔̲͕̬̅̆̐̂͂̆́̿̅̚͜s̵̡̼̙̻̣̺̰̬̲̲̥͖̠̪̺̳̎͋̿ͅ ̴̨̠͂̍̋́̄̃͋̐͐̊͌̓̿̏͋̍͝ṇ̵̡̯̹̜̗͎͕̥̻̹͇̳̠̘̦̫̝͑̉̐̿̔̏̔̍̍̈͌̄̈́̅̏̇͐͘͠ơ̷̞̖̜͈̝̲̝̍͊̎͒̽̾͌̓͘͠ ̴̢̝̭͍̖͍͈̲̳͍̂̾̊́͋̾̈́̂̑͗͊̔̄͋͘͝͝w̸̧̨̢̘̭̹͙̳̻̯͕͙̝̣̗͔̫̰̭̱̰̗͊͌̊͑͊̓̓̾̈́̂́̚͜͝a̸̛̲͕̘̠̓̄̆͊͛͌̆͛͛̌̓̊͝͝y̷̢͕̯̭̺͙̦̥̱̥͇͍̥̠̲̦̑̔͒́̇͐̀̄͒͛̋̈̒̚̚̕̚͘͜͜͝͠͝ ̵̨̛͇̙̞̳̘̭̭̗͙̝̮̣̝͕̙̣͉̒̈́̈̈͋͗͒̌͂̃͆̀̒̅͂̉͘̕͘ͅt̴̠̱̰̟͍͈͖̫̙̻̞̞̿̔͌͜͜͠ǫ̴̛̛̯̟͓̠͉͔̬̮̠̱̼͔̳̻̘̩̲̤̞͙̔̅͂̆̑̊̎̇̓̍́͗͛̍͐͑̚ ̸̬͚͍̩͍̜̭̗͖͉͇̘̮͕̹̿̏̍c̸̡̨̡͇̘̯̙͔͕͙͕̫̯͈͇͎̳̦̜̺̃͗͐̈́̽͂̐͂́͑͗̈̊̂͛͠͝ͅͅh̶̥̣̺̟͋͑̃̋a̸̛̟̬̩͖̥̟̙̪̦̻̙̲͕̟̦͚͙͚̝̿̂̀̈̎̈͌̊͂̅͌̑̕ͅñ̷̢̛͓̠͓͒̿̉͌̅̇̆͆̄̅̆̋̈́̄͊̄̚ͅͅg̷̨̧̢̢̧̛̤͖͓̗̻͔̹̪͖̰̱̱̓͑̈́̾̄̏ͅͅē̶̢̡̢̛̹͖̜͙̼̩͈̱͉̥̰̻̪̗̽̍͊͐ͅ ̴̢͔̫̟͓̥̞̰͎̠̗̼̮̌t̴̢̡̛͔̪̝͍̩̫̖̲͛̾̈́̉̂̇͐̋̉̋͒͐͑̇͂̓͜͜ͅͅh̴̡̧̹͙̲͇͔̙̜̝͕̟͍̝̝̼̼͙͖͕͕̒̈́͋̽͌̑̋̌͒̀̈́̆̀̃̈͒̇͜͠͠ë̸͙́͌̔̒͐̓̓̇͑̍͗̉̾̾ ̵̛̟̥͔̤̖̗̣͇̰̦̝̝̽͛̆̄̋̓͜ͅë̵̠̠̙͓̩̳̠̩̗͔́͑̈́̏̾͛̒̃̆͛͋͠͠ń̸̡͎͍̮̭͚̝̞̜̰̝͉̟͔̱̍̈̏͊͑͗d̶̟̞̲͍͓̋͝i̵̢͓͚̱̘̹̝̝̜̓͑̅̒̈́̽̉͜ͅͅn̵̨̛͉̺̈́͂̏̈́͊̍̄͛̃͒́̈́̄̄͌͝͝͝͠͝g̷̲̼̜̮̖̝͚̾͂̿̿̍̈́̓̉̔̏͋̇͝͝ ̴̡̢̤̥͓͈͕̙̱̦̬̭͎̭̣̗̺̤̼̹̙̠̺̯͒̓͋͆̒̚͝o̴̡̧̧͓̤̻̙̲̱̟̥͈̱̥͓̰͊̾̒̑̊͋͗̿̾̔̎̏̒̿͛̿̕͘͝f̵̟͉̜̗̦̘̦̲̦͍̫͕̪͈̓̈́͋̉̇͗͋̋̀̈́͂̃͑̈́͊͊̚͘̕͝͝͝ ̷̨̘͇͈̦̅t̵̡͚̟̬̝͔͉̩͔̥͇͉̫̰̱̫͚͇̯͚̱̰͕͆̂̈́̑͂̃̓̈́̍̀̿̊͊̐͑͐̾͊̚͠h̶͈̪̳̃̆̒̑̄̏̃̄́̑̈́͛͘͠͠i̶̧̩̺̲̜͉͓̮̲̭͉̫̠͈̻̣̯̮͉̥̖͉̜̔͜s̶̢̤͉͈̰͖̘̗͈̝͈̬̙̣̦̜͔̱̿̒ ̵̊͠ͅs̷̨̬̬̩̰̩̐̂͋̌ţ̵̱̟̗̼̼̬̰̮̖̱̹̆͆̊̓͐̓͒͌̎̄̾̔͂̃̇̈̅̎̽̇̕͘ǫ̵̢̛͔̥̙̫̫̯̫͉͖͍̉̒̅͐̎͗̉̓͗̊̎̌ͅṟ̷̛̜͓̺̠̭͍̭̮̇̈́̌̆̆͛̉̈́͌͑̍̓̃͂̒̋̃͘͠͝ỵ̷̯̙͖̦̈́́͛͛̐͒͊̐͗̾̒̏̉̂̕͜͠.̴͓̰̦͕̗̼̤̪̣̮́̄̄̈́̄̂͛̓̋̑̍̆̇̐̽̚͜͜ ̵̢̛̲͚͓͍̳̞̫͉̜̬̰͇̣͊̂̌̊̐I̸̧̡̧̮̫͔̪̫͖̩̯͎̭̬͕̩̜̲̟̟̘̱̅͑̉̓̄̿͆̍̉̍͒̚͝͝ͅͅ ̷͎͖̆̿̋̍̈́̽̍̋̆̎̕͝͝͠h̸̨̜͖̤̮̟͎̹̥̱̪͔̫͕̫̫̼͚̮͈̑̓̇͆̑̈́̑̊̄̚ͅa̴̡̳̟̳̺̙͕̮̲͔͔͎̝̼͉͈̻͖̗̟̘̻͑̔͘͜͜͝v̴̧̧̢̠̘͎͉̤̺̹̻̖͉̭̻̲̲̯̤̫̹̎̀̄́̀̈̑̍̍̄͗̌͑͑̈́͆͜͝͠ͅe̷̛̖̥̎̆̂̇͒̃̿̄̓̔̂͛̒͛͠ ̵̨̡̢̛̭̦͕͎̮̣̖͍̩̤̭̫̪͉̟̪͔͚̱͎͕̉̍͗̎̅͗̅͂͑̿̚͠ä̵̡̨̨̛̠̜̗͙̙͓̗̝̜͙́̓̓͛̈́̔̐̎͛̊̎̿̂̀͝͠ͅ ̸͍͒̀͗̚͜m̶̖̑̈́̑̏́̃̑e̵̲̞̫̼͉̰̟͉͍̔̃̽͂̒̽̽̌̔̆́̋̑͘͝͝a̶̮̼̤̱̺̱̮̤̹̭̦͙͎͚̪̦̲͚͇͐͑͊͝n̸̢̢̨̼̘̞̗͈͖̐̃̃̍̐͗͆͠͠ņ̵̨̙͕̘̠̰̫̼̰̌̋̏̐ͅę̷̫̱͓͔̬̖̤̕͝s̷̨̡̧͙̖͈̭̭̭͎̩̩̫̪͇̪͕͉͕̬̈̍̊͑͆͋̒͗̂̍̒͆̎̓̈́̏͑͑͘͘͝͝ͅş̴͉̪͖̥̅̃̈̍͐̂ ̵̢̲͉̭̻͚̪̼̲̭̟̌̾̾͘͝͝i̸̱̼͚͉͖̎̎̔̇͆̈̄̅̂̓̿͛́̽̕̕n̴̢̯̪͚̫͔̱͓̎̄͋̅̈̋͑̂̍̅͊͂̽͠͝s̵͖̞̙̰͙̣̐̀̑͝ĩ̴̡͍̪̣̗̹̱̟̗͕͇͔̜̜͖̪̮̠̪̟͛̍̈́̆͑̉̾̌̿͆͌̀͌̋̇̌͜͝ͅd̸͎͍̝̟̻̮̖̱̣̞̃̿ͅͅe̷͔̤͚̝̺̮͙̮̲͖̫̘̓̂͐͒̎̐ ̸̡̗̼̹̺̼̦̎̔̔̀͋͊̏̌͗͑͋̑͠m̷̢͈̩͖͋̄̒̋͊̈́̃̊̓̓̈̈́̈́̓̏̍́̅̎̽̋̕e̶̡̧̨͇̫̯̱͔̯̣̳̖̫̻̭̦̜͚͓͖̖̣͙͆̾̈́͆̌̿̓̏̋̔̊̇̈́̓̔̎̒̋̎̚,̵͎̲̝̠̠̈́͋͗͋͊̽̂͑͊̅̆͘͠ ̸̛̪̺͇͎͉̜̠̠̺̝̯̣̂̌͌̂͂̊̐͒͐̽̒̑̅̈́̊͛̕̕r̶͔͓͎̟̲͇͑̋̎̍͌̓̑̈̂̾̌̓͌̐̈́̉͐̈͑́͗̚͘͘ę̷̛̖͙̟̤̥̗͉̳̮̙͍̟̳͉̲̯̘̘̻͙͉̠̈́͆͆̅͌̑̄̅̏͋̌͛͌̊̓̋̋͆̕͜͝a̵̡̨̧̢͙̲͍̺̩̜̹͙̗̳̻͕̼̹̍͛̽͒̄̊͂͜l̸̢̧̯̦̝͖̖̳̭̞̺̩͓͇̭͍͓̖͍͎̔̈́̈́́̔̀̅̊̆͑͗͆̂͊̓̈̃̚͘͝͠͝ͅͅ ̸̧̨̜̟͖̗̗͈͙̫͇̟͖̩̻̣̹̬̳̕a̸̡̢̘̳̘̪͔͎̘͉͓͖̱̳̠̓̀̅̃̒̓͗̌͐͋̏̾̀̏͛̅̈́͜͝͝͝͝͝ͅs̴̢̡͈̙̼̻̦͙̈́͐̄̆̔̍̂͊̈͐̂̿̌̒͆͒͒͊̕͘͜͝ ̷̨̰̱͕̦̼͉̗̳̫͈̣͉̖̳͔͍̳̐͋̈́͋̔̓̉̕̕ͅä̴̛̻̘͕͙͉͕͙̦͇̘̟̘̮̼́̑͆̄͊͐̿̓͒̀̇͐̓̇̇̃͒̂̋̕̚͜͠ͅn̷͍͚̩͍̜̬͍̱̯̦͙͍͂͗͋̀̅̓̋̆͊̑̂̅̎͂̊̕ ̸̘̄̊͊͑̊͑͛̅̋͑̽͐̚͜o̶͍͓̤͚̝̞͈͔͕̪͗̾̒̈́̾̅̑͝r̸͎̎̅̇̐̈́̊̄̇̇̑̾̂͂̇͝͝g̷̯̩͎̭̈͊͂͛͋͐̓͝a̵̛͙͍͍̰͚̺͉̘̮̙͉̫͗͛̎́̓̔̈́͌͛͆́͜ņ̷̢̮̝͈̟̟̗̩̝̞̲̜̺̌̈́͆̒͊͌̍́͒́͑͑͆́͆̒̏̋̂̕͜͠ͅ.̶̛͎̫̗͖͇̦̭͓̗̰͛̋̃̍̽̿̔̚̚͘ ̶̡̨͙͍̼̞̯͙̽̀͒̌̍̈͋̓̊͑̚̕̚Į̵̖̻̲̘͈͖̅͒̌ͅ ̴̨͓̖͎͎̭̞̹̩̮͕̲̜̼̠̺̟͕̣̎̓̿͋́̒̔͜͜f̸̗͈͎̺̻͉͂͂̓͌̏͌͛͒̎̏̈́̕͝ȩ̶̬̮͖͙̜̭̼̯̭̳̝̥͉̙̗̝̹̲͓̅̉͒̈̊̕͝͠ͅȇ̷̮̣̼͑̇̈̕l̶̨̺̭̣̱̤͕̙̪͉͍̲̗͋̔̾̓̿̉͋͑̀̆̏̑͜͠͠ͅ ̶̨̳̮̩̳̣͍̫̙̺̯̩͍̜͔͙̺̽̃͑̋͌̄̅̎̌̕̕͠ͅä̵̞̮̝̦̠͚̜̳̣̪̤̿̑̔͂̏͌̀̍̓̋̕̕ͅ ̸͈̲̻͇̹̘͚̝͓̙̘̹̼̬̻̜͚̠̭̖̈̀̂͒̃̅͐̐̑̒̆͆̔̊̎́͌͋̕͘͘̚͜ś̷̢͕̜͈̫̖̜̰̻͇̳̮͜t̸̡̡̩̠͎̬͉̖͕̫̤̜̺̗̜̜̭͙̩̗̋̎͌͐̉͑̇̀̈́̾͊̆̽͐̓́͋̓͋̋͂̃̂̕͜͜͜į̷̖̭̙͍̭͕̰̭͋͐͗̈́͌̉̒̈̑̐͑̄̉͆̈́͘ͅẗ̵̢̧̡͙̟̪̗͚̮͖̝̱̻̖̜͊̇̔̾̓̈́̉͘͘̚͝ͅͅç̷͔̞̘̰̻̘̗̅̒̐͊̑̑̉̕͠͝ͅẖ̴̡͚̖̦̃͒̈ ̴̨̧̛̪̗͉͔̤̮͎͈̬͖͉̙̲̖͙̈͆̑̒̀̐̆̂̓̑̅c̵͔͎͆̆̓͊͊̃ơ̷̳̣̇ͅm̶͇͇̣͕̈́͆̽͋̓͆̑͆̇̈́͐͗̌͊̕͘͝ȅ̴̖̐̑́̒̚͠͝ ̶̨̛̰̙̥͕̩̍͒̆͛̊͘u̴͓̱̙̪̰̞̱̮̬͆̈́̇̿̐̇͐͗̏̾̆̊̄͆̾̾̓̽̕͜͝͝͠͝ͅn̸̡͇̦̑̂̆͐d̸̬̞̹̬̲̖̝̻̩̿͌o̵̢̨̠̻̰̲̣̭̲̰͙͓̒̓̉̊͘̚͜ņ̵̓̅͊̍̽̑̂̀̊̌̓͑̀̋͝ḛ̵̛͒̀̔̊͑̐̋̇͑͗̈̕͘͝͝ ̷͍̝͍͈̦̘̜̬̬̘̙̥̟̾̎͌̎̆̎́̈͐̋͗̚w̷̡̛͎̭̹̝̤͆̑̽̍̃̈̀̉͝͠ḩ̴̡̟̼̹͚̼̦̎͑̂̌̓̓͒̈́̈́̉̏̀̎͜ͅȇ̸̢̢̘̮̱̭͙͖͉̟̙̥̐͌́͛͐͛̅͠ñ̵̨͓̙̯̼̣̪̱̣̥̬̖̹̭͇̄̔̈̐̈́͂̑̈̿̍͆̌̔̓̓̚̕͝ͅ ̵̡̢̡̨͇̟͈͈̪͎̗̻̤̞͎̝̭̗̱͗̍̽̊̎̏̓̓͌͜I̷͈͎͈͖̘̙̱͓̘̞̓̄̋́̃̔̿͐̂ ̶̛͔̃̀̅̅̒͋͆͛̋̒̊̚̕s̷̨̞̯̹̤̜̭̣̖̻͉͉̤͔̥̪̹̼͖̊́̆́̓͛͂̊̊͌̿͋̉̑̃̍̔͊̈̚͠͠͝ê̷̢̡͖̹͍̻͓̣͖͚̹̙̳̝̟̩̻̲̫ͅͅe̸͚̜͍̭̹̥̠̰͐̒́̌͊̒͂̆̒͌͂̃͋̓̍̄͗͗̚͠ ̶̡̡̡̛͚̺͉͓̹͍̳̯̪̣̜̦̙̟̤̣͇̺̈́̽̊̾̓͗̈́͗̀͋̀̆̎̆̉̕̕̕͠͝y̷̧̡̺̹̹͈̞͙͖̳̮̙̻̱̺͔̱̫̻͇͍͐̈́̎͗̾̒̈́̃̊̋͂̑̉̅͘̕ò̸̧̼͇̺̦̯͔͙͈̳͇̱̘̱͍̭̹͍̺̲̫̳͕͊̾̐̌̇̍̈́̿͒̃͐̐̚͝͝͝ͅų̶̳̤̦͕̟̗̯̹̩̱̟̥̱̻̘̗̼̖͎̲̬̏̈́̀̑͛͑̊̇͐̈̆̋̂̊̉̾̓̓͂͛̚͝.̶̢̨͎̖̗̜̮̫̰̪͚͚͍͌̍͂͊͑̄̀͌̽̿̒̓͆̃̑̈́̿̒͌̾͝ ̴̧̡̢̟̦͚̥̳͙̣̗̲̺̯̳̬͉̟̬͉̜̳̻̆̈́̑̀̓̊̈́͘͜͝͝S̸̬̫̭̻̻͓̘̠͖͕̺͉̊͋͊͐̇͐͝ư̸̳͚̪̘̜͐͛̂̓͛͐͋̔͂̆̌̑̋́̈́̓̀̄̇̚̕͠d̴̛͙̝͔̜͔̦̳̪̣̠͖̎̎̏͊̔̃̔͐͋͗́͑̍̂̕̕͠͠͝d̶̼̙̼͎̝̟͉̩̯͓̯̬̟̃͑̍̋͂̌̇͌̓̑͛̾̐̇̈̿̆̔é̷̜̩̜̬̅̐͒͋̂n̴̨͇̜̠͇̭̼̹̮̗̤̲̹̥̪͑́͛͑l̷̖̣̹̝̞̰̭̑͗̉̓̍̔̔̓͂͊̉̿ỵ̸̑͋̈̿̋̐̌̓̽̈́͂͌̏̋̂͝ ̷̨̛͇̮̤͓̬̹̬̻͎͕̤̱̦͓̐́̿̅̎̃̅͗̈́͜I̷̧̦̥̹̪̦͓̝̖̰̱̤̮͈͛̂̏͑̿̈́̌͋̇̓̍̐̂͊̊̓̀́̉̕̕'̴̛̰̄͆͊̍͗͆̋̌͘͝m̴̫̩̟̲̙͇̭͙̥̂͗̆͆́̍̄̐́̃̿͆̊͂̅̆͌̚̚͝͝ ̶̡̨̪͈̙̩̫̭͇͖̗̃̓̾̏͒ä̷̡̡̨̢̩̟̘̪̦̱̣͓̱͙͕͙̹͖́̆͒͑͂͐͗͋̂́͊̽͑͆͠ͅͅl̴͚͓͈̫̹͔̦̣̗̥̩͔̥͙͔̙̾̐̄̇̾̾̓̇ͅl̵͙̰͙̰̺̖̠͚̟͕̲̬̪͖͎̈́͌̒͐̀̅͝ ̸̧͔͈̩̹̘͔̼̺͖̥̱̭̮͓̪̥̭̹͒̂̃́̓̚͝a̶̧̛̘̗̩̮̬̭̤̞̜̮̤͆͂̉͗͗͆̇̒̊̓̅͛͘͝l̷̢̛͇͔̹̞͈̮͇͇͍̘͈̀̕ǫ̵͎̣͈̗͓͖̗̻̦̗͋̍̒̎͌̏̌͌͋̋̈́̐̇͊̑͒̂̚̕̚͝ǹ̷̢̧̙͕̘̝̰̔͆̍͛͘ͅe̸̢̨̥͚̯̝̺̯͛̽̉͛͑̂̿̈́͌͐͒͆̿̀͐̀͒͛̚̕͜͠͝͝ ̸̝̣̖͇̻̲̜̲̼̎̋̇i̷̦͇̞̙̲͍̪̥̗̱̅̍͊̈́̑̑͊̐̈̒́̚͝ṇ̸̡̧̡̨̥̺̮̱̘̥̝̦͔̙̗̤̝̬̃̑̑̌͋͐̾́͊͑̓͊̋͋̒̾̋͜͜͝ ̴̛̽ͅt̶̙͍̣̫͙͕̫̺͎̜̯̩͍̹̓̅̈́̅̈̚ḩ̴̢̛̖͍͕̖̪̙̞͍͕̫̪̘̙̖̝̗͕̤̙̅̈͗̏̐̂͑͑͂̈́̎̄͘̕͜͝͝͝ͅē̴̻͚͚͍̜͇̻̘͉͕͎̣̞̙̝̏͒̒̈̀̕ͅ ̴̡̧̧̛̛̫̘̺̩̺̺͈̔͐̔͆̍̃͋̍͆͋̈͐̃̈̾͌̓̿̂̆̕̚w̵̨͉̺̱̯̫̜̮̱̣̟̙͙̤͎͋̾̉͋̈͌̍̓̐̒̇̄͊̇͘̕͠͝ỏ̷̡̠̝̠͍̮̘̔͑̃̽͒̚͜r̷͓͙̮̪̹͗̈́͐̋͑̀̃̍͠l̵̢̧̡̼̮̬̩̯̻̪̪̣̼̟̱͚͙̭̦͒̈́̃̏̋̿͝d̶̡̧̛͖̦͕͈̻̟͓͉̾̽̊͆̓̓̎͑͊̕̚͘͜͠.̷͈̣͇̆̈̓̒̓̓̏̽͐͘̚͠͝ ̸̡̣̬̹͚͉̹̼̯͇͕̙̭̞̺̣͔͖̗͉͓͎̈́̆͆̾̑͝Ĩ̸̡͎͍̝̝̮̼͉̮͍̬͉͉̱ͅ'̸̻̣̜̯͖̘̻̲͔̿̋͗̍̈̒̄̋͌́̿̃͗́͘ͅḿ̷̧̞͍̱͈̣̙͚̱͚̱̭̖̫̅̽̽̓͗͘ ̸̡̢̛͙̪̰͚̞͔̗̓̈́͆͗͑͆̾̾̿̓͒͑͐̽̆̓́̑̕̚͜g̵̣̲̈̊̂̄̓̆̏̓̀̌r̶̞͇̰͕͖̱̼̗̯̗͎̻̺̩̘͖̫͕̝̘͐̄̾͋͌̑͂̽̍͘͝ͅi̵̢͕̫̣̬͚̻͚̼͍̗̤̗͖̙̗̞̅͛͆̇̚̚̚͠͠ͅe̶̜̳̻̲̟͂̄͛̽̓̓̈́̂̀̍̏͑̐͗̐̀͐̚͝v̶̢̦̩̬̠̰̬͕̜̌̊̒̌͌̈̓̇̎̓̅͛͐e̵͇̭̼̳͉̭̝̙̯̍͜ḑ̵̹͍̭̇̏̓͑͛̂̎̔͠ ̵̛̟͕̞̿̐̍̊͒̂̑̊̚͝b̸̨̢̨̢̥̦͕̘͕̗̗̞̥͓̳̗̥͔̥̗̏͗̓̆̈́̑̃̿͂̎͗̈̓͝ͅỷ̴̡̨̧̧̨̱̠̤̣͉͚̣̘͔̘̗̼͚̰̹̹͕͜͜͠ ̴̛̥̼̽̋̓̽͘͝͝͝â̷̡̢̲͓͓̦̞̔͐̅̀͐͊̊͂̎̄̃̈̓͘͝͝ ̷̨̨̢̠̤̮̳̼̩͚̞͕̬̜͚̻͖̝̭̦͎̟̹̣̓̆̑͊̏̔̒̅̿͝f̵̢̢̺̱̺̝̙͎̱͕̘͖̺̹̘͑̆̌̑̓̔̽̄̿͗̌̃̅̋̔͋̊́̕͝ę̴̡̻̯̙͈̯͙̲̳̬̠͉͎̼͉̗͍͓͇̩̜̭̿́͑̏̑̋͊̄̒͝͠͝e̷̡͇̭͙̒͑̓̄̑͆͊͑̍͆̈́̾͒̈́̂̐̅̃̾̄̿͠l̵̨̢̢̨̛̯͇̺̰͍̦̩̝̠͎͔͇̝͚͑̓́̐͆̿̋̐̔̈́͐͊̈́͂̆̊̈̈́̚͘͠͝i̶̡̡̞̦͇͚̙̗̘͉͍͍̬̰̻̥̬͍̳̺͉̦̹̇n̷̢̞̱̦̰͇̠̪͈͈̜̟̘̹̹͓͓̺̠͑̂̑͘ͅͅģ̵̢̡̡̢̛͍̪͎̮͕̬̠͙̩̱̱̠̭̤͖͈̘͕͌̈̐̄̃̎̈̑̈̅̈̈́̐͆̒͘͝ ̵̨̧̲̮̼͎̦̲̤̯̝̤̥̞̥̤̥̬̮̆͐̉̚͠t̴̤͉̥̙̘͌̊̒̌̄̈̃͒͒̅͠ͅḫ̸̭̊̇̀a̸̡̨̛̛̞͇̙͖͕͇͔͖͐͒̔̔͒̃͋̊̌̔̉͒͋̽̚̚͝ṯ̷̨̪̲͉̳̯̻̯͍̠̬̮̜̗̜̾̉̈́̐͗̀̇͝ ̷̡͎̙̩̠̥̯̗͓̫͍͚̙̭̱͒͌̋̏͒̓̋͂́̊͒̆̂̈́̔̇͌͐͘͜͝͝I̷̢̖̙̠̟̹͎̭͓̅̔͑̓̆͌́̃͗͌̂̒͆͘͘̚͠ ̵̡̢̢̛̛̲͚̩̥̩̙̰͋̃̌̎̈́͒͂̔́̌̈́͊͘c̶͕̙̟̔͌̔̍͗̾̔̀͛͋̿̾͋̓̉̚͘̚̕̚͝͝á̷̧̡̡̛̱̳̼̞̥̪̼̮͓̩͎͓̺̔͑̐̄͛̿̽̅̀͋͆̀̏͊̒̈́͑̿͆͜n̸̡͙͉̙͓̙͎͔̼̯͂͆́̀̉̐͊͋̂̍̈́͑̈́'̸̧̧̫̲̠̜̞̭̻̱̪̭̠͔͔͉̼̤͌͊̑̈̒̽͂͊ṫ̶̡̬̗̹̜͚̖̠̯͎͎̹̲͖͎̫̐͂̆̓̒̄̐͌̃͗͜͝͠ ̵̨̯̼̜̲͈͙̞͙̫̗͉͚̘̙͓͔̥̒̈́̃̄́̏͊͘ͅp̶̧̢̨̖̜͉͙͎̳̣̖̣͙̉̄͛̉̈̈́͑̾͛̈́͗́͌̓͜͝l̶̼͇̒͒͗̅͌̌͋́͛͋͌͆̓͘̕̚͜a̸̛̗̞͗̈́̅̀̈́͆͐̇̈̍͘c̸̢̩͕̟̟̼͉͉̳̪̫̭̙̩͉̾͌͒̏̂̾̃̃̈́̌̃̆̂͠ē̷̡̳͙̪̩͔̮̪̦̙̖̭͎͊̈́̓̒̌̅̔̓̈́̈́̇͌̔̿͗̄̈́͗̕͘.̴̝̥͚̣̻͕̌́̆͊́̌̽͋͆̽̑̎̋̄͐͝͠͝ͅ ̷̢̨̗͔̼͇͉̼͖̖̩̗̹̝͚͎̻̔͆͊͐͂̍̋̈́͑̔̊̂̑́̓̾̄̕̕͝ͅI̶̥͇̱̝̟͍̪͔̝̰̞̭͚̱̯̘̥̎̌̎̽͑̾ͅͅ ̸͈͎̘̏̇͂̿̌͌̋̃̿̚͝ḥ̷̨̨̧̛͎̮̯͔̠̳̲͔̣̲͓̝͔̟̭͌̿̒͂͒́̎̏̉̀͑̃͐ͅạ̷̧̛̜͍͖̲͍͈͚̞̗̻̪͈̠̖̞͎̣̼͕̠̔̔̂̍́͊̑̂̈́̍͗͋̕v̷̠̗̺͖̞͍̪̱̘͔͈͑͜͜͠͝ę̵͉͓͉̝̱̤͇͉͛̓̈̎̿̂̏̒͊͜ ̸͎̠͈̳̹͍͛͊̏̃͗̑̐̐̑̓͂ǹ̶͍̻͓͔̱̤̘̬̺̭̻̟͐̑̾̔̾̓̄̈́̕ǫ̸̧̗̟̙̗̠̥̱̞̦͇̖͇̠̤͚͉̦͇͑̽̎͛̄͛͑̐̅̾̀̄͋̎͐̉̕͠ͅ ̵̢̪̟̻̥̫̤̞̳̝̟̱̰̤̳̩͈̻͕͂̿̈́͋̉w̶̧̰̗̮̿̿͐͋̐̆́̑̓̿͆̐̄̓̍̋̉̈́̚͘̚͠͠i̶̢̧̡̡̛̫̰̬̺̮̟̠̰͙̦͇͙͎̻̤̊̃̋͋͛͒̔̑̀̈́̍̏̃̈́͂̊͛̔͌͗̚͠l̵̢̛̘̬̬̑̉̇̇͒͑̋͒̽͐̏͠͝ͅl̸͖̜̹͖̠̪̺͔͛͛͌͂̕p̶̢̞̦͔͉̫̼͐̓̾̓̋̀̓̃̈̈́̀̎̉̎̒ǫ̵̨̧̪̣͍̰̱̺̭̬̠͔͙̪̘̺̯̺̺͖̏̔̒̾̓̔͌̓̐̚w̸̨̛͖̪̭̙̥̤̙͇̼̥̘̣̉̿͌͒͛̐́̉̓̊͐̐͗̕͜ͅë̴̛͉̗̙̖̱̰̤͇̠̞̙̣̟͎͈̖̝͈͍̙͖́̇̿̒͂͐̈ř̵̯͋́͠͝͝͝ ̸͖̮̠̽̉̍̎̓̀̊̓͑̑̇̆̄͂̕ĩ̸̮̰͈̩͍͋͑͂͊̉̐̈́͆̈͂̈́̽̕̕̕͘͠͝͝n̶͔̠̘̻̱̬̟̹̥̑͌͘ ̵̫͔̯͖̭̻̻͕̺͙̹̤̯̒̇̄̌͂̀͜m̶̛̭̪̜̣̹͚̯̜̠͔͚͇̜̓̓͌̄͒̿͆̇͊͂̇̊͝͝y̸̡̬̖̝̤̹̳̼͈̲̘̗͆̈́̒̋̈ͅ ̸̨̞̲͉͈̣̳͈̭̗̳̯̮̔̎̍̐̎̈́͂̒̈́̅̔͒̒̾̚̚͘͜ñ̸̡͈̭̼̰̝͈͓̭̝̭͈̺͓̟̠̌̑̑e̶̡͓͉̳͇͕̗͙̬͉̪͐̓̅̊̂̐̎͗́̚r̷̪̣̹̲̳̰̯͎̲̊̋̚v̷̠̐̽̚ȩ̵̖͇͉̝̫̹̻̠͈̗̻̺̮̼̗͔̙̗̩̜͈͈̩̀s̸̢̨̧̞͓͍̞̲̦͖̝̤̘̰̮͇͉͇̔͗͑́̃́̀̽͑̔͐͆̉͝.̴̧̮͉̤̘̥̙̟̦̪̻͓̠̳͐͐͑̌̆̊͐̋̽́̅̽̆͋̒̕̚͠ ̵̻̓̿͌̄́͊͒̉̽̂̍͒̕͝͝Ḃ̴̢̻͕̳̟͈̻̦̙͙̫̬̋ͅȩ̵̡̧̧̢̛͕̞̻̭̻͇͔͇̻̘͚͍̘͉͙͈̦̌̀̌̍́͐̈̌̚ň̷̡̬̠̭̦͙̠̝̩̳̗̺̠͚̭͉͇͕̠͆̎̆͜͜e̷̢̢̧̛̞̤̜̺͎̝͈̖̳̣̥̳͍̭̰̰̪͉̩̥̓͆̓̓̈́͆̍͛̏͝͝ͅà̴̡̭͎̻̞̮̰͓̺̱̼͔̼̻͍̗͉̬̅̒̊t̸̢̨̛̟̩̙̖̙̺̤̳̻̲͍̝̒̇̔̓͐͂͗̽̕̕͜͝͝͝h̴̛̜͎̣͖́͋̈́͐̅̐͐̉̏͋͝͝ ̸̤̗̲̩͈͓̯̹̺͈̳̓̀̓̌̅̎̀͌̀̈́̿̅̿̋͌̌͛̏̋̃̕̕̕͘͜m̸̢̡̧̛̛̠̭̪̥͖̜̰̳̞̖̪̪̻̹̳̞͍̮̓́͌̿̄̈̄͋͆̾̅̄̈́̂̈͑̐̚̕̕͜͝͠y̵̡̨̠̥̼͙͔̫̳̯͙͍̙̟͖͕͖̙͐̐̌̄͛̎̋̆͒̾͒͜͝͝ͅ ̶̨̧̜̫̟͍͍̮̟͈͎̼̊͛̿͛͛͒̏̌̅̾̇̈̄̑̒͝͠͝ç̷̛̤̦͚̈́̒͌̾̍̀͝ơ̷̧͓̞̗̰̜̠̞̥̜̏̔̒̇͂͐́̒̆̇̍̊̾̃̓͊̒͝ṋ̵̡̧̥͇̯̲̜̖͖͍̤͎̪̈́̐͑͗͊͌̎͌̿͐̌̓̄͛̇̈́̚̕͠ş̶̡̫̳̰̤̬͔̣̎̑͌͗̋͋̌̑͂̿̊̈̈͋̾̅̉͛̾̕͝c̷̨̼̜̗̻̰̬̤̻̰͕̟͈͍̍̈́̆͑͊̈́̉͂̃͂̎̓̐̚͘̚͝ͅǐ̵̧͍͔̩̘͕̟̪͇͚̯̩̲̲̙̳̮̱̣̩͍͜o̷͎̗̬̘͚͚̭͇͒̈́͗́ù̸̡͓͚̬̖̄̈́̏̿͒̐͆̀͗͑̌̽̚̚s̵̡̩͙̘̝̞͉̱̮̼̖̳͚̄͒͒͒͘ṇ̵̘̲̒̋̔͑̉̏̍̑̀̍̔͛͒̊͜͝e̵̢̨̜̥̩̾̒͆̍̋̈́͜͝s̸̘͉͚̟̯͚̞͉̈̏͋̊͒́͒̉͌̓͑̽̎̄̓̐͂͠ş̸̭̖̟̘̦̱͍̹͝͝,̸͎̜̝̝̪̹̯̓̈̊̈́̐̌̈̉͒̚͜ ̵̢̨̢̛͙̮̲͓͔̼̝̲̤̳͈̠̳͙̙̪̙̖̘͔͂͛̽̋̑͊̉̍̇̕͠Į̸̛͇̮͈̖̱̜̜͚̺͎̺͓̙̻͇͎̳̏̆͊̉̑͂͆̕͘͘͜͜͝'̷̨̢̨̠̹͙̯̞͚̯͎̳͙͍̯͉͔͙͎̜̿̑̀͋̄̉͊͐͂̍͑̍̇̓͗͑̀̒ͅm̵̝͈̄͋̐̋̂̔̐ ̷̨̫͕̜̰̫̙̜̯̣͔͐̊͒̔̈́̈̈́͆̒͛̈̑̒͜͠ͅş̶̡̳͇͓̪̦͎͉̼̼̮̙̻̤͆͆͑͛͊͒̚͘ͅȧ̶̺͕͔̟̭̅̏̂̌͌̏̈́̓͑̉̃͗̓̾̊͊̈́̿͛͒͝͝ͅď̵̢̞̠̘̭͓̟̥̲̞̺͈̦͈̤̪̳͇̙̣̍̏͊͊͝.̸̬̼̜̩͇̏͊̇̍̑̄̎͑̅̂̉͂͠ ̸̨̗͈̼̥͚͇̮̝̘̭̖̥͇̭͛͋̄̇͆̒̊̏̒͜͠͝I̵̺̓̌͂͑̄̉̂̔͛͋͋͂͝ ̷̡͔̝͗͋̅̌̏ͅͅl̷̛̺̟͍̳̪̹̻̖̼͆̽̏̽̅͂̃͘͘͝ͅơ̴̧̧̡͚̤͉͖̙̪͚̮̹̤̙̰̘̫̖̬̈́̓͗̓̈̊̇͗̋̐̅̍͊̅͒̈͐̽͜͜͝ͅͅv̷̨̢̧͉͈̞̪̭̼̗̜͖̹̺̘̪͔͎͚̺̟͖͊́̓̆̈́̌̊͗͒̀̉̈͋̃̕̕̚e̶̢͍͎̠̘̞̯̝̘̠͔̮͚̙̯͕̺͙͉̞̿̆̽̎̑̑̑͋͌̈́̏̂̈̓́͑̅̔͗͝͝͝ ̷̧̦̞̝̘̟̺̞̼̗̖̮͔̭̀̇͌̏̅̚͜ͅy̴͚̭̙͎̻̹̠̜̲̲̗̤̎ö̷͓́̿̿͐̏̆u̵͈͚͍͎̐͗̇̅̎̃̽̏͒ ̷̭̱̐̇͌͊̈́͊̽̓̿̕Į̴̧̪̤̲͕̲͉͖̜̦̩̦̤̞̼͙̳̳̭̤̤̖́͐̾͜ ̶̛̤̍͂̊̽̌̈̃̿͐́̓̈́̒͂͛͗͊̀̑̍̒͠l̴̛̛̺̈́̅̋̆̃͗͋̅̽̐̽̇͛̓̑̈́̑̑͐͠ǫ̵̧̰̹̯̘͙̼̺͕̳͖̮̥̭̜̲͓̼͂̐̓͜͜v̶̼̹͇̾̂̆̋͛̈́͋̂͊̔͋̉̔͌̿̎̚͘̚̕͠ȩ̷̡̙̱͉͌̑̒͋̽̓̅ ̶̧̢̭̰̭͍͕̟͓̼̭̬͔̎̊̊͒̔̉̑y̸̢̬̭̠̲̥̝̳͈̓̓͑͂̅͒͆̐͒̌͋͌̅̊̍̑͒̔͒͗̐͐͠ͅỏ̷̪̗͎̼̰̠̰̑̾̄̚͝ü̶͈̲͇̯͌̑̏̋̿̌͊̓̋͝ ̶̨̢͉͓̩̱̖̭͈̭̭̘̫͂̉́͆̍͜͜͝ͅÍ̷̧̮͔͕̠͚͚̜̣͔̙̹̫̟̭͔͚̻̐̐̒̅̎̆̋̆̃͐̎̆̅̀͒͜ ̸̡̨̨̺͉͈̳͔̖̟̙̗̠̤͕̱̘̩͓͉̭́̄̅̍͐l̴̤̯̼̖̞̐̾̓͂͐̌͋̈̈́̍̚͠͝ǫ̴̢̧̛̥͚̱̠̜̬̬̬͕̹͎̬̟͉̯̜͆͂̂̈́̉̍͘͜v̴̧̡͕̮̹͙̥̬͉̤̙̘̠͚̮̣̱̭̓̐̾̂̃̒̕͜͝ë̷̢̡͈̜̩͈̳̤̖̩̬̦̪̆͐͒͐̈́͐̈̋̃͆̇̍͝͝͝ͅ ̴̛̪̯̱̥̪̺͖͓͙̝̻̥̼̗̥̰͂̾͑͌̓̋̈̊̈̍̎͂̚ͅͅy̷̧̛̛̥̲̰̼̗͕̺̳̟̼̥̭̬͔̘͕̘͂͆͋̽̅̏̄̄͆̇̈́̓͛̅͘͘̚̚͝͝ö̸̥͉̜̦̥͈̰͖͚̥́͛͗̆̓͌̑̄͘ų̷̡͚̭͕͕͈̦̏̑̂ͅ.̴̧̧̛̞̟͇̥̘̗̹̹̤̦̘͚͈̼̯̭̼̩̦̠͓̳̔͗̓̏͒͗́̎͐̿͐̄̌̾̔̑̕͘͝͝ ̴̰̟̘̪̲̩̲̈́͊̒̐̿̏̇̑̐̾̃̓̂̓̕̕W̸̢̧̨̛̟̪̯̟͍̩͕̯̗̤̜̗̗̣̳̬̣̑̂̑̂̄̋̇͌̃̃̑̀͊̕͘͘̚͘͝͝͝ḩ̶̺̝͔̘̭̞̘̬̖͂͋̔̾̉̃̿͌̄͌̈̆͂̂̔̽̽͗̑̐̕͠͝ĕ̸̛̛̘̘̗͛̍̈́͒̽̏͒̽͒͗͋̄͗̂̀̕̚͝͝ͅn̶̮͔̼̄̄ ̵̨̡̝̜͇͉̱̠̻̘͎͚͚̥̺̜̮̎w̷̧̢̺̙̹͓̌̀͑̈̊̿̚ǐ̸̻̬̰̬̲͍̤̭̩̞͈̲̖ͅl̵̢̢̻̫̱͈̠͚͔̱̙̘͚̭̲͎̪̟̏͐̓͗͑̔̈́͆̌̈́̂͑͗̓͌͘͝ĺ̶̡̟̺̮͍̦̳̺̻̗͚̻̗̭̯̭͉̱͇̥̠̓̄͑̉͌̿͂͘͠ ̴̨̨͙̖͕̰̻̯͕̖̫̭̥̖͔͔̰̞̦̈̈͊̅͋̃̓̿̋̋̍͐͌̂͂͊̾͜ȳ̶̢͙̩͎̯͍̮̹̯̗̪̅̓̈́͂̍̌̆́͂͋̓̿̅̈́͒̕̚õ̸̥̠̻̺̩̼̠̣̔̊͒̈̎͛̕̕͠u̶͇̣͖̻̦̦͖͍͖̖̟̞̟̤̼̦͋̈̑̅̑͒͛̇̓͂ͅ ̴̡͖̰̹̪̜̪̟̳̹̰̖͕͔̲̹̈͗̋̕l̸̡̫̦̯̟̝̱̠̓̾̔̆̕o̴̧̟͖̱̦͙͎̩̫̲͖̱̜̰͎̹̎̆̐̾͜͜͜͝͝ͅv̸̨̡̢̨̡͎̩̩̘͉̥̫̭̳̹̝͉͎̜̜̥͙̺͎̏̒̈́̀͂̚̚ĕ̴͗͐̊̽̇͆͆̇̓̏̈́͒ͅ ̵̧̳̘̀m̴̡͍̞͖̫̯͇̠̠̣̦̥̼̗̠̯̬̼̼͔͒͛̌̀̏͆͜͜͝ͅȩ̶̡̦̹̟̪̭͔̤͇̠͚͇̩̤̩̙͈̣̌̽̽̒̑͌͗͒͌̋̃̒̿̌͊͑̿͘͜ ̶̢̢̯̜͔̝̗̳͈͓̲͙͉̭̼̲͈̻̝̼̼̤͚̬̂͝ṱ̴̢̧̨͎̖̟̘̲̫͖̭̹̉̽̄̎̈́͂̈́͆̄̈́̑͑͋ơ̸̡̢̱͕̱̺͊͗̑̾͆̅͂̀͋̀͌̐ö̵̡͈̪̭͍̱͓͍̭͍́̎̅̈̏͌̈́͒̈́̑̉̿͆ͅ?̸̝̘͚̣̓̊̒́ ̶̛̗͙̣̇̈́͌̔̍́̉͛̔̽͂̆͜͝Ŝ̶͔̒̊̇̌̐͋̏͊͑͑̍͘̚h̸̢̛̘̰̲̯̞̣̦͂̽̒͐̏̀̃͐͑̎͐͂͒͑̋̂̚͝͝ͅơ̶̧̡̮̘̳̹̩̞̻̼̣̠̥̗̞̠̹̳͎͎̞̅̉͆̀̓͒̓͝ͅų̶̨̡͖͍̞̻͔̜̩͇̼̪͍̬͕̹̰͈̲̲̯̦̅̄̆̅̂̾̒́̽̾͠͠͠ḻ̴͎̘̩͇͔̰̱͕̇͒̓͒̓̿d̷̥̞̮͛͆̈́̊̄̈́̍͝ ̴̨̡̛̻͚̰͍̝̞̭̗̘̻̌̔͜I̶̦̮̯͉͓͓̰̺̯̘̘͇̭̞̩͖̅̊̈́̍̒̄͜ ̶̮͔̌͆̔͊̔p̵̡̡̢̘̲̳̯̲͇͈̱̩̳̹̩̠̬̭͈̲̾̍͝o̶̪̭͎̫͋̓̈́̔͑͂̆̿̉̈͠î̶̢̟̱̖̻̭̦̜̫̖̩͕̬̟͚̝̎͂̄̑͂̔̎̉n̸̛̛̝̤̤̮̜̙͎̞̯̞̣̙͓͌͑̃̅̾̋͊̅̌̓͌̿̃̇͜͠t̶̡̢̝̫̪̖̙̺͓̺̝̠̟̪̭̼̝̎̓̉͜͜ͅ ̶͕̭̰̜̺̜͌ą̶̧̙͇͕̥͙͖̻̞̥̹͐̊͂͘͜ͅͅ ̴̧̛̛̰̳͎̺͍̘̫̳̻͖͇̝̬̯̭̞̣̭̩̰͛̅͑̈́̎͂̚͝͝g̸̝̠͓̦̜̱͎̞̰̖̦͇͖͎̞̘̼̜̹͍̻͒̐̒͊̐͝u̸͕̻̬̐̉͌͑͊̐̾͋̈́̔̏̈́͂͌̍̽̚̚͝͠n̷̨̢͈͓͎̮̙͇̘̪̪̒̏̾̀̄͌̃̔̃͂̉͗͊͂̎̕͘̕͝͠ͅ ̷̡̖̫̞͓͍̲̲͕̦̝̳͆̆̿̎̓̑̇̀͆͝a̸̭͕̘̱͖̳̠̩͎͇͙̠̻͇͑̆̅̈̏̓̃͋͑̆̊̕̚͘͜͠ͅt̷̛̬͉̠̮̺̜̽͂͗̂͛̐̑͒̃̈́̊͊͋̆̚̕͠ ̸̧̛̥͉̩͔͍̝͈͎̩̯̭͉͎̪̜͉̤̠̗̬̅̽̋̋̆̂̄̍̓͗͊͊̈́̌̅͜ͅỳ̸̢͈͖̻͉͈̟̗͔͉̠͚͈̬͉̣͚̟̻͔͊̇͌̓̽̃̄̅͐̄̓̔̕͘͜ơ̵̧̰̜̺̩̝͇̩̹͔͍͌̿̓́̄̏̊̏̃̾̕͜ṵ̴̗̀͊͂̉̑͊́̕͝r̸̩̰̰̳̦̻͔̯͙̫̫̱̣͉̮̪̭̠̅͋̎͂̈̈̈́̑̃̍͘͘ͅ ̷̢̢̥̪̼̘̯͎̜̣̭̫̟̼̙̥̪͇̂̒̂͑͒͐̎̅̆͆̇̽͝b̶̧̺͇̣̭̦̹̤̻͚͆͆̍̅͋͐͑̎̉̕r̸̡̛̳̝͍̺̜̦̝̖̅̀̓͗͗̔͋́͌̆͊̾̌͆̊͘̕͝a̶̡̛̖͓̣͇̝̯͚͕͙̯͍̮͈̲̽̍͌͊͋̀̚͜ȋ̷̧̛̼̼̺͕̗̺̳͎̦̦̘̪̦̜̖͔̞̎̒̊͗̍̾̋̃̔̐̇̓͊̌̌̎̿̿̕͘͜͜ͅn̸̡̨̬̲͖̖͚̙͛̅͐̔̅̎̈́̆͆̋̂͑̂̇̍̃͗̿͜ͅ?̴̢̼̳̱̄̉͑͛̐͌ͅ ̶̡̙̖̖̞̒̾͜Ṭ̷̡̩̝̝̭͍̮͍̠͌̈́̑͜ḧ̷̛̳͙̞́̇̃̆̃͊͂͝͝͝ę̸̡̧̟͔̝͔͍͖̱̯͙̟̯̻̣̪̯͒̾ͅr̵̛̛̼̞̱̼͙̝̲̩̠̙̻̟͋̀̈́̄̓̇͒͝͝͝ȩ̵̢̧̢̙̗̳̠͙͕͉̦̠̟̞̮̘̯̺̦̗̾͊̎̓͝ͅ ̶̡̢̗̮͍̩͕͇͔̣͕̹̔̈́̔̈̍͗̄͐͜͝ͅi̷̢̡̨̡̢̺̠̝̟̲̩̟͚͐̑̎̽́͌̅̋͐̉̈̇͂̓̇̓̈͗̕͘͜͝͠͠s̵̢̛͈̬̘͖̤͚̳̹̱̦̯̲̼̘̣̯̺͎͖̠͍͓͆̔̐̽̒͊̂̂̓̉̓͊̈́̕ ̴̛̫͍͈͖̭̦̫̞͍̽͋̔̀̋͋̌̌͠͝n̷̡̡̡̧̛̜̩̲̱̠͎̼̯͇̟͙̰͚̫̘̜̭̐̽̇̉̈́͑͊̍̚̕o̸͎͇̜̥̜͇͈̹͈̥̹̣̿͑̒́̾̑̿̓̕͘͜ ̴̛͈̖͙̼̮͚̪͍̫̠͇̩̺̺̰̺̆̃̈͊́̑̇́̑͗͊̇̋͛̾͝͝͝ͅͅͅȧ̴̰͊̓́͂̈́͂͐̾̎̈̄̓́̌̏̏͝l̶̡̨̢̢̨̤̦̭̖̻̥͖͎̰͔̘͎̳̫̭͗̐̈́̓̈̍͘͝t̵̡̳͈̰̱͚̼̗̫̻͔̯̞͈͚̤̳͎̔̈́̽͌̾͜ͅe̴̢̛̛̛̼̞̻͓͛̈̓̐̓̅̃̈̐̂́̆̎̅͛͐̈́͝͝ŗ̷̡̢̧͖̭͓͍̳͉̜͙̫̤̹͈̝̻̘͚̍̈́͐͑̆̐̾͒͜n̴̢̧̨͇̹̘͓̟͓̗͕̣̟̩̮͎̳͙͙̩͋̈́͝ȧ̵̙͔̰̠͍̺͇̻͚̝̲̦̌̍̈́̃̉̎͛̏̓͒̈́̈́͊͂̓̆t̶̰̯͗͋̎ĩ̶̡̡̮͖̘̖̣̖̝̜̿̽̅̍̉͂̊͂̐͗̒͠͝ͅv̸̛̛͚͉͗̿̎͐̿̇̓̈́̑̀̾͛ẹ̶̢͎̫͇͈̺̘̝͔͈̺͖͚͖̘̏̋̅̏̇̑̋̎̕͠,̸̧̧̜͎̣̣̑̉̂̎̆̔̓͆̐̅͗́̊ ̵̨̡͖͕̻̦͉̮̱̫̠͚͊͋̇̂́̏̏͗̃̊̈́͌͝e̸̹̠̥̟̗̺̋̓͐̽̉̀̇̍̋͛̈́̌͂̒͊̒͒̀͗͘̚x̶̧̨̳̫͉̱̓̄͐̀̌̕͘̕c̷̢̰͓̙̰͓̬̘͉͇̯̬̮͉̼͔̹̞̒͜e̴̞̠͚̙̬̤̙̖̱̻͔͑̔̇͒͐̈́́̍͆̑̈͑̐͋̈́͗̚p̶̛̛̛̰̪̺̯̈́̀͌̇͑̏̑̐̈́͗͊̊̂͊̓̓͑̅̕t̷̨̧̤͇̠͇͖̮̰͍͉̘͚̳̯̙̤͚̟͆̏̔̎̆̊̇̄̏̓͑̕̕͠ ̷̺̱̠͔̫̍͆̓͒͒̚s̷̢̨͈̞̗̖͎̥̗̫̼͙̟̙͉͖͕̎̊̎̍̅̄̌̓̄̍̐͛̈́̈́̈́̎̓̈́̚̕͝͝ͅͅͅu̴͎̜̻̳̥̻̳͈̬͙̞̖̮̟͇̟̫̩̗͛̂͑̿̊̔̊́̑̓̈́̂͐̏̏̚͠͝͝ͅṛ̵̢̨̛̘͕̪̥̦̣͔̪̲̗͎̳̪̥̈̋̑̋̎̐̉̐̈́͊͜͜͜͠ȑ̵̡̡̫̪̦̥̱̩̭̗͖̘̞̤̭̞̥̝̼̮͓̳̘̀̓͒̉̾̕͠ͅe̷̢̡̨͚͍̲̙͔͙̮̳͈̰͍̪̺̪̥͛͌͛͒̈́̅͛̂̚͘n̶̢̖̫̠̆̆͑̂͂̆̆̈͐͑̓͘̕ͅd̷̡̧̮̬̞͔̱̠̙̙̥̪̟̻̜̒̍̿̅̐̉̒͗͜ė̶̢̨͈̪͖̭͚̳͓͓̬̠͓͇̖̠̮͔̗̰̻͇̯̏̈͗̔̈́̊͋̈̕̕͘͘͝r̵̨͕̰̳̫͎͚̗̲͚̯̦̙͉̅̀̇́͐͑̽́͂̆̈́͂͗̽̇́̌̕̚̚͘͜.̶̢̢̢̱̥͔̭͔̩͎͖̩͍͉̱̭̝͔̞̊̈́̾̋̏̍̑͜͜͠ͅ ̸̨̻̭̲͉͇̮̝̻̘͖͖̪̰̘͍͚̏̌̉̈́͐̓͑̓̉̇̽̈́͝ͅḀ̷̢̨̢̜͕̻̩͖̻͎̳̬̝̝̤͈͎̠̀̈́͋̅̾̈̉͛̒̚͜͝ṅ̶̻̲̹̫̤̱͇̓̓͛̾̒̇͗̈͠ḋ̵̛̗̻̽̈̎ ̸̢̢͖̪̱̘̜̪͕͓̳̠̤͚̥̺̇̐̈́͐̋̓̈́̂̓̔̆͆̽̆̑̏͛͋͝s̵͔͔̘̟͖̒̄̈́͑̀͌̌͠ư̵̛̛̦̬̟̗̍͑̃̈́̃̈́̅̏̍̓̉̓́͠r̶̡̨̛̝̝͙͙̙̪̰͚̺͚̱̗̻̭͇̠̝͕̙̻͌̑͂̓̏̌̇͗̈́̇̕͜͝ͅr̶̙̼͍̮̰͚̙̖͈̻̳̰̭͖̟̼̻͙͔̩͍̲͆̃͑͌ę̸̨̧̡̢̛̞͈͇̮̟̤̭̭͇̙͈̻̟̮͆̋̿͂́̚͘̚̚͜͝ń̸̡̧̢̢̻̭͍̰͎̭͚͍͓̬̙͙͎͕̄̉̏̄̿̽͗̍͗͂̒̈́̈́̎̋̾̚͝͝ͅd̸̡̧͉̬̗̜̜̮̯̯͔͈̞̪̤̝̳̉̋̊̍͒͛̎̃̽̽̑̅̚͜͝͝ě̵̡̮͓̬̠̖͍̟̱̦́̈̎̂̏̑̉͒̃͑̓̐̚͜ͅr̸̢̡̠͈̜̬̭͇̠̳̹̺͈̼̣͎̘̹͎̽̐̽̅̒̎̊̍̌̽̌͂̀̈́̇͆̎͆͐̚͜͝ͅ ̷͕̜̝̻͉͖̤̱̦̼̗̱̞͚͉̀̃̈́̂̄̾͌̍̚͠ą̸̨̪̘̖̙̘͍̘̓̐̂̑͌̉̌͐̍̿͜b̵̡̼͖͙̭̲͓̭̗̻̋͝a̸̢̛̰̳̲̣̟̻̟̩̞̬̥͔̠̺͂͛͗͐̏̿̌̍͊̈́̋̅̎̿̕͘͘͜͝ñ̶̛̲̠͕̻̺͖̪̗̪͓̙͌̈́̿͒̈́̕d̷̢̼̟̪̺̖̰̘̖̝͈̼͇͎͇̟̹̪̰̯͓̗͖̊̐͊ơ̴̡̢̤̭͎̲̺̯̺͖͔̥̜̻͓͚̞̮̂̄͊̈́͗̆̏͊͒͋̍̅̽̂́̄͗̓̚̚n̵̨̡͎̺͇̰̬̝͔̞͚͓̻̩͍̳̱̔̾͋̄͐̔̑̄͐̉̐̋͌͋͐̕̚͘͜͜͠ͅş̶͈̟̗̠̞̲̝̖̜͕̫̻͚͛̈̓̐̐̑͐͆͋̎́̐͋͒̑͂ͅ ̶͔͑͆̆̈́b̴̢̛̛͇͇͉̟̗̥̹̼͚̩̣̻̈́̆̈́͆͠ͅǫ̴̨̛͕̙̠̘̟̟̙̜̠̲͕͇̘̘͇͖͒̋̈̅̇́͊̕͝t̵̡̛̛̥̟̳̳̿̄̒̋̊̈̚͜ḩ̴̙̖͓̤̫͓̠̥̻̙̤̪̳͎̝͈̖̹̖̗̻͗̃̅̋̆͂̓̈́̾͐̓̂̚͝ ̷̧̡̲̱̥̞̭͋̈̏̎̈t̵̼͙̜̣̜̦̼͉̫̮̳̰̠͍͙̎̑̊̑̓͋̽͑͘͝ḩ̶̙̗̣̻͔̖̬͎͈̹̯͇̠̓͜͜e̷͓̥̝̍̒̍̃̃̇̊͛̀̿͘͘͝ ̵̮͔͚͉̫͈̳̞̥͎͎͇͕̺̂̑̆͋̆͐̅̈̚͘͘f̷̨̪̳̻͓̟̬̗̗͇̾̐̄̿͌͌̃̃͆̑̋̒̊͗̀̚͝͝͝u̷̥̞͈̞̺͉͖̭͎͔̜̘̣̺͍̭̬̪̟̪͂͐̐͜͝t̶̡̡̧̙͙̗̰̟͇̬̭̞̳͈̤̥̙̜̭͕̰͒̊͒͌̓͋̒̒͛̓̽͌́͘̚͘͝ͅu̶̡̦̼͖̜̯̬͓̠̣̬̟͍̰͎͑̾r̸̛̯̜̝̤̙̄̈́͛̀͂̽̈̃̅͗̔̈́̑̌̍͌̋̚ḙ̶̗̗̔̔̏͊̇͝ ̸̢̧̱͓͎̻͖̜̹̳͉̠̣͉̱̳̺̟̟̐̋̒̎́̑̕a̶̡̢̜͈̞̜͇̺̥̝̍̾̓͋̒͒̅̂̃͋̽̂͂̈́͘̚͠ͅņ̴̨̡͙̤͕͎̤̰͓̯̦̠͇͔̮͈̣̬̻͍̅̑͛͂̆̊̎̎̅̌̓͋̚d̶̬͍̫͇̯̂͂̊̋̔̑̐̍̍͒̈́̓̈͛ ̶̨̛̞̥͍̜̲͇̩͙̯̯̻͎͖͖͖̖̹͛̽͐̋͑̒̋͆̔́̃̽̔͋͐̑̇̑͐͗̕͜͜͝t̶̳̑̑̈́̓̈́̐̉̎͐̀̈́̈̌͗̐͑͒͐̊̕ͅh̷̨̨̛͉͓̪̰̤͕̭̥̼̰̬̲̜̜̫̼̘̱̰͒͊͌̿̍́̃͐̉̚͜ę̴̛̠̝̩̥̞̞̮̠̟̯̳̺̙̺̙̲̱͉͎͂́͛͊̂̽͘͜ ̶͎̪̲̥̩̝̥̠͆̆͊͗̅̊̚̚͝s̷̨̯̦͎̞͇͕̪̆͆̊͑̇̕͝o̵͒̈́͝ͅu̴̗͋̽͊́͐̈́̽̓l̴̢̢̧̞̗̖̝̦͎̼͈̘͚̟̻̰̙̬̩̫̬̆̔̒̈́̎͆̆̈́̐̀̂͊͊͝.̶̡̨̛͔̦͙̫̳̲̑̌͒̈́̄̃̚ ̴̢͔̣̤̘̫̤̤̗͍͈̱̹̟̳̬̲͊̊̄̌͂̂́͑͒́̒͛͑͗͑͜͜͠I̷̡̧̢̟̯̩̲̞͉̪̠̭̬͉̖̩͉̹̻̓̔͒͛̚͘͜͜ͅͅŝ̷̞̾̾̄̉̊̿̿͑͆͆͑͝ ̸̡̗̞̭̗͍̦̳͍̞̫̫̱̪̙͋͐͗͛͋̄̒̈́̚̕͜͠͝ţ̸̡̛̛̼̰̥̼̼̘̻̟̗̯̯̟̝̥͔̂͂͌̆̐̈́̏̍̏̔̌̌̀̎̅͒̓̓̎̕͝h̵̨̛̲̭̳̞̠͕̩̩͉̗͙͙̐̅̏͆̈͊̉́̚̕͜͜è̷̛͔̜̮̫͙͎̭̞͔̠͙̠̳̝̏̈̾̈́̈͆̓̓͐̽̊̾́͘̕͜͜͜͝͝͠ȓ̶̡̛̛̛̤͚̝̘̭͍̹̞̻̪͚͙̺̪̩̳͉͔͖̊̓̓̾͗͆̄͛̓͗͂͐̈́̔̉̔̎͘̕͝ę̶͙͚̙̗͈͍̭̥͎̹͓͎̜͈̟͔͈̙̘͑͒̇͜ ̷̪̗̦͍̙͚̉͒̿̎̆̽͌͋̓̆̂͑̑̕͜͝͠ả̷̡̢̭̜͕̺̯̫̭͓̥̤̱̱̞̥̰̩͉̱̘̈́̆̒͆̋̆̆̈͠ ̸̬͙̼̩̘͔͈̆͋̓̃͝͝ͅs̸̛̖̬̰̳̫͓̜̞̺̳͙̼̠͉̗͍̱͔̥͍̽̉̓͆͌̀͑̊͑͆̒̒͗̏̾̏̀̚̚͘͜͝o̴̢̡͎̜͙̬̣̫̤̝̲̜̪͕̳̟̣͍͋̑̿̓̀̈́ų̴̛̆͋̊̏̆̓̓͗̉͂́͊͋̾̿̌̇͘͝͝͝͝ḻ̸̛̯̯̖͍̣̣̠͕͔̹̝̜̾̾͋͒̔̾̄͑͗͝ ̴͉̳̜̹̻͍̞̖̲͓̩͓͈̪͓̹͈̠̾͂͊͌̂̃̀͑͋͂͒̋̕̚͜͠ͅt̴̨̡̛̙̩̫͖̮͔̣͈͎̔̏͊̄̈́̄̉͗̎͒̈̕̕͝ḧ̸̳̹̩̯̱̼̓̍̽͊͆̿ͅe̷̮̞̳͈͈͇̙̙̝̤̯͓̿̃r̸̳̥̺͈̩̅̈́̓͛͌͌͗͛̋̓͛̕͝ę̸̪̙͖̮̜̻͐̏̿͊̈̽̽̇̉͒̒̊̐̓̏̈́̈́̈́̕͘͘?̶̧̛͚͉̱͖̫̬̝͈̥͕̺̼̼͉̈́́͐͋̒̌͆͘̕͜͜͝ͅ ̵̨̨͔̝̰̲̦̬̤͎̯̔̐̓̾̈́̔͝I̷̳͍͇͍̺̗͗͗̌̑̉̅̔̓̚͜͝ ̶̦̫̯̱͓͎̤̻̤͇͉̭̻͉͈̲̅͛̑͛͒͐͛͆̚͝d̴̡̡̟̝̝̜̭͕̣̻̠͔̰̫̦̠͎͖͎̱̓̊̂̋̽́̋̊̾̈́͜͝ớ̵̻̋͊͆͑̅̈́͊̔͑̌̈͂̿̽̚n̴̡̡͔͕̳̞͓̫̖̞̝̠͚͙̘̹̩̅͊'̴̡̧̛̛̯͔̤̘̱̰͓͓͇͎̮̰̰͚̰̱̱̪̱̮͑̄͆̒̒̄̀̍̂̊̌̍̾̌̽̽͐̊̾̽͠͠ͅt̷̡̧̡̡̨̺͖̮͈̫̫̙͕̟͓̫͈̖̒̐̽̄̋̐̈̓̃͛̾́̿̓͛̓̋͘͘͜͜͝ͅ ̶̛͖̺̳͚̭̝̳̋̋̄͆̊̾̾͝t̸̙̜̻͙̤͍̙̯͈̠͗͂͌̄͂̒̋̉̏h̵̛̺͔̝̦̳͈̭͖̼̊̓́͌̈́̃̃̉̈́̅̏̎̄̊̕͘͝͠ͅi̶̭̲̞͙͔̱̬̗͙̾̿͂̔͌̃̈͊͐̒̓̓́̑͐̿͐͋͝n̶̨̧̧̘̘̘͔̯͖̘̝̠͇͖̼̳̰̼͆͜ͅk̴̡̢̤̖̱̘͖͇͉̝̼̩̣̱̓̍̔̅͜ ̵̡̨̧̪̮̦̟̪̥̯̩͉̟̞̮͕̩̲͌̓͌͗͒̐̽̎̒̍̕̕t̵͍̰̥̙̪̂̊̑̔͂̚͜h̸͍̜͎͈̩̰̞͔͉̰̱̬͙͔̦͌̆̐͛͆̅̀̎͂̂̈́͛͘͠ͅȩ̷͚̱̫͉̻͙̃̍̈́͋͜͜͝ŗ̶͕̖̩͙̩̣̼̘̜̮͚͚͔͔̤̰͓̙͎̦̺̬̉̄̉̈́͐̄̾̃̄̈́͒̏̽̅͌͆͗͑̋͊̋͜͝ė̶̡̛͉̱̲̣̬͖̞̯̻̪̥̤͖͓̯̐̔̐̋̓̽̒͐̽̃̐̓̒͌̅̿͂̕͘͜͝ ̷̻̏̓̋̊̈́͑̎̌̑̋͌̇̂̚̕͜͝͝į̸̠̰̲̲̻̖̖̫̥̯͚̔̎̑̇̕š̸͎͎͌̍̊̈́̉͗̓͐́͆̃͋ ̵̧̛̺͇̺̆̈́̓̊̕͠͠ả̷̧̡̟̼̻̙̰͍̙͔̩̹̻͎̲̻͓͐̈́̽̚͜ņ̴̡̢̛̛̖̦̣̯̤͕̯͖̥̪̞͉̟͕̯̭̈̌͌̅̓̈́̈́̋͑̀̒̍̎̈́̏̈́͘͝͝͠y̷̢̢̨̳͍͎̯̻͎̘̠͈̼͓̺̝̞̙̺̥̮̟̆͋͊͊̃̓̓͑̇̿̈́̃̎̏̾̔͗̈̏̕̚͠t̵̨͇̰̟͎̮͙̞̥̤̥̦͈͕̪̜̼̦̝̼̤̍ͅh̴̢̢̢̗̮͖̩̫͎͔̗͙̻̳͖̰̼͉̩͕͙̼͚̑̌̿̓̈́͋̍i̵̢̨̧̛̤̜̪̠̦̱̤̹̼͍̗̎͑̈́͑̏̂́̌͝ṅ̶̢̛͖̫̦̈́͐̈̌͊̔̇̉̑̽̽͌̽̏̿́̂̈́͌̈́ͅg̸͓̼̉̾̀͋͌̉͌̑̂̔̇͘̚͝͝ ̸̨̥̳̜͔͚̰͙͙̻̬̗͈̈́͂̓͂̐̓́̎͒̐̇̎͌̕͜͝ͅt̸̡̢̢͇̮̖̼͙̭͔͔̜̰̜̽̈́̊͐̏͐̕͝h̷̨̛͇̪̺̩͈̙͕̖͔̒͆̀͒̐ȩ̴̧̧͎͎͖̩̦͔̩͙͠r̶̢̨̛̻̟͖̱̱̻̘̮̜̯̜̰̲̻͒̄̍̆͆͛̈̽͜͝ͅͅë̷̩̩̲.̴̰̣̥͎͍͖̥̙̖́͛ ̵̡͙̼̫̺̱̩͖̦̼̺̜̟͍̜͎̅̈́͗ͅH̷̨̼͍̪͙̮͙͚͈̯͔̓̀͝ͅe̴͓̯̱̦̻̟̫͓̺̍͛̇̓̌͑̿̎̒̓͑̈́͛̉̎͂̅̈̒̇͛͝ḷ̸̢̬̣̣̺̞̭̤̟͓͉͎̜͈̩͂͜͜l̶̢̮̪͕̱͔͎͍̮͇̮͕͉͈̘̹͎̱̟̙̮͇̉̌̿̆̕̕õ̶̡̢̢̱̗̫͙̩̱͇̝̲͎̹̩̬͔̝̘͉̼̟͕̌̊̔̂̓͒̆͜?̵̧̡̛̛̗͖͕̬͎͔̤̮̼̰̖̼͈̯̳͔̘̤̼̋̉͆̐͋̎̐̿͆̏̃̔̓̈́̾̐̿̚̚̚ ̴̡̛̠̳̽̽͆̆̄̌̑͗̾͗̈͘͘A̷̢̛͍͇̤̰̺̔̈́̏̈́̆͒̅̓̿̐͛̕͜ŕ̵̡̻͈̘̪̞̠̣͈͎̣̠̺͍̜̩͙̳͎̾̿̂̌̈̏̂̌e̵̡̛͈̲̺̞̠͕̞͌̐͛̍͆͌͂̚̕͠͝͠ͅ ̵͈̟͋͗͒̍̂̈́̊̔͒̏̕͝y̸̢̺̖̯̜̩̖̗̜͈͚̙̤̗̙̫̲̓̊̆͐̈́̐̏̀̉̕͜͜͝o̴̧̢̦̿͐̓̾̃ų̷̢̨͕͓̟͖̯̍̅̔͛͐ ̵̨͍̭̫͉̭͉̝͋̌̔͆̏̓͑͝͝t̸͍͚̙̙̫̩̺̳̰͙͇̻̺͓̗͍͚͉̜̾͗̌̄̋͑̓͐̒̆̿̊̏͝ḧ̵̼̙͙̰̮͙̥̱͕̟́͛͜͝ë̶̛̼̗̮͙͉̎̈͂̏͊͐̃́̓̓̅̂͑͋r̶̼̮̬̱̱̬̝̓̄̓ë̶̹̦̣͕͝?̶̧̛̪̟̳̳̗̫̹̪̯͍̲͍̋̀̔͆̈́̔̚̚͝ ̷̧͍̖͓͔̻̬͈̳̮͓̬͎͗̋̋͗͊͜͠Ć̵̛̮̱̜̥̊̈̐̔̄͂̍͌̄́̿̅̆̿̂͘͝͠͠͝a̴̯̩̬͔̹̭̞͇̩͔̤̩͉̰͇͖͚͆̓̎̀̂̑͊̇̉͛̊͋̿̓͋̋͗̐͜͝ņ̶̘̺͔̩̱͚̟̖͍͔͈̲̱̠̦̏̋͆͐̔̀͐́̇̀̆̉͋̕̚͝͝ ̸̧̙̯̝̣̮̬̦̞͇̗̹͈̖̻͈͖̩͐̓͒̓͋̈́̓̈̿͌̍̍̃̄̎͘̕͝͠y̷̨̧̢̛̛̰͈͖͔̮͇͕̩͖͖̾̍̋̈́̌̽̄̂͊̆̐͌̾͗͛͐̔̓͝͝o̴̩̤̗̻͍͎͚̗̣̹̦͉̬̮̤̼̫̲̻͎͓͊͘ͅͅư̶̡͈̙̭̙͙͌̇̎͝ ̶̧̭̣̣̗̘͉̮̲̠̘̝̣͔̜̼͇̮̞͖̓̇̍̐̇̄̾̌͐̓̈́̾͐̂̈́̽̎̎̕̕͜͜͠͝h̶̢͓̗̹̪̱̣͙͚̙̪̮̹̬̞̘̻̰̱̺͋̃ͅͅȩ̷̧̰̱̼̙̙̯̗̖̭̫̰͇̗̋̀̅͝͠a̴̢͕͓̟̦͉̱͎̜͕̦͉̣̗̻͕̜͑̏̅̌̌̏̏̔̒͆̈́̇̕͠r̸̡̛̼̱̰̋͒̿̏͂͂͊͐̈́͛̓͆̏̐͑̋̒̍̎̕͠͝ ̵̡̨̡̛͚̲͎̲̳̘̼̣̭̬̪̭̹̤̝̱͎̗̍̎͋̅͛̏̌́̃͐̈̄̏͐̎̔̀̄̕͝͝m̴̧̦̺̘̗̝͈͍̟͓̐̊̈́̎̈́̀̀͐̾́̅̊̋̍̈́͊̓͋̍̈̆͒͘͜ë̷̡͖̣̣̻̗̙̟͍̼̙̦͈̝̯͑̔̈́̈́͒̒̚?̶̛̘̜͖͕̩̲͉̥̥͔̭̜̗̣͋̋͗̈̔͗̈́̾͊̑̎͊̎̚͜ ̷̦̠̯̠͓̺̳͉̙͊̊͛͗̕Ȋ̸̳̫̘̹͚̮̽̓̕͝ ̵̛̭̌̓͑̈́͊͝c̴̢̡̺̩̙͈̬̣͙̼̥̱̳̤̱̽̍͒̀̄a̷̧̡̗̜̪̰͔͈̖̹̹̞̳͓̰͎͊ñ̶̯̼̱͚͈̼̱͉͎̟̇̈̿̿̐̀̽̄̈̉͒͗̃̿̍̇̋̈́̉͗̚͝ ̷̨̧̢̛̙͈̺͙̖̣͓͎͙͙͓̳͍͔̹̪͙͚̯̎̃̉̾̉́̍̽͐̋̎̋̎̔̚͜͝ͅs̷̢̡̢̢̧̥̩̙̱̹̖̫̭̖̤̟͍͖̜͕̾͂͋̆̒͗͋̎̈́́̈͂̈́̂͛͂̽͘ţ̴̧͉͎͈̗͓̰̺̭͚͓̝͒̿̈́̿̾̊͂̾̂̓̋̔̅͗̋̒̆̎͘͠i̵̢̧͍͍̺̮̹̜͚̗̳͔̠̭̠̹͙͗̔̑̏̅̈́̈́̋͗̆͋̒͋̈́̎͂̈́̀͛͑́̚͜͝ͅl̸̛̥͈̜̰̜̥̂̄̐͌ͅl̵̦̤̝̪̻͎̈́̈́͐͆̈́͛̈͂̋̈̈́ͅ ̵̧͕̣̝̭̞̯͇̼͈̺̦͕̜̓͐̿͒̐̐̄̎f̸̨̧͇̲̺̯̘̩̠̻̱̞̬̄̽̑̀͛̑̌̅̉͐̏͊̉̌̆̽̽̈́̿̾́̕̕ȩ̷̛̜̝͖͙͕̠̄̚è̵̞̎̋̃͆͆̈́̏̇͝l̸̡͚͎̫̥̱͖̫̟̤͔͚͇̦̠̳̦͓͙̯̈́̅̈́͌ ̴͕̤͔̃͒̐̚y̷̧̡̢͎͇̟̻̣̮̭͍̙͙͓͔͙̖͍̝̭̯̤̻̑͆̐ͅơ̶̧̟̺̭͈̼͔̠̱͈̣̩̤̄ͅǔ̶̘̖̞̦̩̈́͒͂̌͛r̶̢̧̧̛̘͕͚͎̪̟͖̜̗͇̠̹̪̤͈͉̫͒̏̌̏͗̌͗̕͝ͅ ̶̡̛̣̣̙̤̲̥̗̥̫̟̩̭͍̟͔̿͂͂̈̿́̊̈́͊̇̿͂̒̾̄̅͑͆̚͘͝ͅh̷̼͈͕̠̥̹̹͙͖́͑͑͜ͅa̴͚̦̰͉̘̩̅̍͂̌͌̐̀͑̏̀̇̈́̎̊̒̈̿̚̕͝t̴̛͕̱̲̜̉̾͆̀͑͛̏̌̓͌̄͐̌̈́̈́̒͘͘͘͠r̸̢̙͉̺̣̼̯͈̘̳̮̱̞͈̩̗̞̭̪̲̲̋̑̊̒̑̾̈́̔̆ͅȩ̶̧̡̨̧͕̠͍̩̹̩̭͙͈̬͎̖̱̘̞̝̒͗͂̄̄̀̈́̌̿̇̓͗̎̑̊̚͘͝͝͝d̴̜̗̩̍̄̉.̶̨̡̢̬̤̞̳̬̜̻̮͙̤̺̀́̃̈́͑̄͆̉̒̉̎̚̕͠͝͠͝ͅ

̶̡̨̪̜̩̹̻̗̯̗̣̱̳̘̻̯͙̦̍͜

̷̡̡̪̜̗̳̳͓̰̤͎̣̗̰̙̫͓̜̤̟̗́̋̿̄͑͗͑͒̋̀͋͐̑͐̑͂̂̽̊̉̆͐͘

̷̧̭͖͎̦̬͔̦̦̝͙̲̲̓̾̓̽̓̏̄̒̾̌̈́̽̚͠

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


~~~

Outside, beyond this realm, there is a vast garden with bushels of flowers, hydrangeas, lilies, azaleas, carnations, forget-me-nots, and orchids. Orchids that bloom. I will find you there. 


End file.
